


In the spring a year

by EliasFinn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter Friendship, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, POV Draco Malfoy, POV Harry Potter, POV Luna Lovegood, POV Neville Longbottom, Protective Neville, Rare Pairings, Rebuilding Hogwarts, Sharing a Room, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-05-19 08:10:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 33,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14869994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EliasFinn/pseuds/EliasFinn
Summary: Neville is working at Hogwarts in order to rebuild the castle.Suddenly he finds himself with a roommate, no other than Draco Malfoy, his former bully.He never expected the following events.Harry comes back to Hogwarts to fulfill his 7th school year.Suddenly he finds himself in a difficult somewhat friendship with Draco Malfoy.Why is he jealous? And of what?Draco has to help to reconstruct Hogwarts over the summer due is the sentence of the Wizengamot.Suddenly he develops feelings he never had before.He never liked Gryffindors before, why now?Luna didn't want to come back to Hogwarts for another year, but some Gitchbletck-Gnomes told her that she would find the most interesting truth in the old castle.Suddenly she's in the middle of friendship and love.She never thought her heart would heal that easily.





	1. He'll do what is right

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome =)
> 
> 1) Harry Potter and the universe is still not mine, but J.K. Rowlings.
> 
> 2) English isn't my native language, so you'll probably find some grammar and spelling mistakes. I hope you like it anyway and please don't be harsh with your criticism, but don't hesitate to give me your opinion.
> 
> 3)The story will have more chapters (around about 20, maybe more) and I'll switch between Neville, Harry, Draco and Luna's point of view.
> 
> Have fun and enjoy the summer sun =)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters song:  
> [City of the Sun - Intro (The xx Cover) | Sofar NYC](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yIdKbSeAueY&list=RDyIdKbSeAueY&start_radio=1)

"HUH?"

"Don't 'huh' me, Mr. Longbottom.", Headmistress McGonagall scolded him.

"I'm sorry Professor, but I'm not sure if I understand correctly.", the tall boy said, a hand rushing to his hair, playing with the dark blond locks on his neck. A gesture he couldn't stop doing since he was a sheepish teenager. He still was a teenager, not quite eighteen years old, but he certainly didn't look like that anymore.

Neville Longbottom had grown up over the last year to a man with broad shoulders, large hands which were able to work hard and stubborn blond stubbles on his cheek and chin.  
Only his big brown eyes revealed his true age. Although of the war, of all the cruel events he had witnessed, his eyes showing innocence and were kind.

Headmistress McGonagall sighed impatiently, "I'm quite sure that you heard correctly, Mr. Longbottom, but I can repeat it for you."

She folded her hands on the wooden desk.

The summer sun shone through the large window to his right side and brightened the office. Dust danced in the air, twirling around and maybe if Luna would be there, she would tell him something about mystical creatures.  
But she wasn't. Luna was at her destroyed childhood home and took care of her father.

It was late June and he and others tried to work together in order to finish the rebuilding of Hogwarts until the next term started. Neville was there to help with the reconstruction and right now he was sitting in a big comfortable chair, listening to the quiet whispering of the portraits at the high walls and starring disbelieving at his former house teacher.

"Mister Malfoy needs a place to stay while he'll help us to rebuild Hogwarts and unfortunately I can't trust everyone.", her thin lips were pressed together and seemed thinner than ever, "But you, Mister Longbottom, have proven to be a man I can trust. Trust that you won't hurt him. Trust that you to do the right thing."

Neville was stunned. He should share is small quarters with Draco Malfoy until the term would start again. He was sleeping in on of the small quarters near the Hufflepuff common room. It had one small window and just enough space to move between the bed and the commode. The room wasn't even big enough for him alone, really. But with Malfoy?

"How do you think this will work?", he asked the older woman in front of him, not unkind, but doubtful, "It's Malfoy we are talking about and you know exactly what he has done! What he has said to me all these years."

Her face softened and for a short moment, she looked like a mother. Very slowly she picked up her glasses and rubbed the bridge of her nose, "I do understand your feelings, Neville. I really do, but it is time to stop the prejudice and hate. We need to move on and let Voldemort and his gulf in the past."

McGonagall now was looking at him, her sharp eyes bored into him. She had dark circles under her eyes and the lines in her face had deepened. She was exhausted, like him and everyone in the wizardry society.

Tired of fighting, of discrimination and hatred, and he understood.

"I can't force you to help me, but he needs a place in Hogwarts to fulfill his sentence and I'm afraid that some others would see this as an opportunity to take revenge."

Neville knew she was right. Nearly everyone would love to take out their anger and loss on him. And Neville knew that this wouldn't help to start a life after the war. It would deepen the gap between the light and the dark side and it would lead to another war. A war which would destroy everything forever.

"Fine.", he mumbled, ignoring the strong displeasure twirling and twitching in his body, making him feel small and stupid again, "Just...fine, he can stay with me."

At first, it seemed like McGonagall was shocked, she hadn't expected that answer, but then, "Thank you, Neville. I really appreciate that"

She placed her wrinkled hand on his arm for a moment, squeezing it lightly and he just felt that he had done the right thing. That this would be a great step in the right direction.

Soon she stood up and was all business at once, speaking to a portrait, while Neville peered around. The office looked almost exactly the same when Dumbledore was still alive.

Snape hadn't changed much, just some potions ingredients and a small lab in the back.  
The portraits were filled, all wanted to see the boy who killed the snake with the Gryffindors sword, whispering excitedly when he looked at them and waved his hand.

However, Snape's dark frame, which held no interesting ornamentation was empty. The former headmaster was probably in one of the abandoned classrooms, brooding over Harry.

Harry had testified that Severus Snape had been one of the good ones. That he had helped Dumbledore and Harry to end Voldemorts regime. And Snape, his portrait, hated it. Hated that everyone seemed to take a liking to him, now that the golden boy had spoken on his behalf. Hated that everyone wanted to talk to him, thanking him.

Neville himself would never thank the potion master. He had made his first few school years to a living hell. 

Dumbledore, nevertheless, was in his portrait. He always was, not willing to participate in other canvases like some others did.

The old wizard was sitting on an ancient rocking chair and was smiling radiantly at Neville. He had some wool and needles on his lap and stroke the white beard. Not saying a word.  
Neville didn't care about the silence. He had never been close to the old man and he wouldn't know what to answer him anyway.

"The room will be a bit bigger, but only for another bed.", Headmistress McGonagall tore Neville out of his thoughts, "Would it be possible if you could take him with you to the greenhouses? There Mister Malfoy wouldn't be on display for the other helpers and he would be able to work in silence."

Neville shrugged, not really enthusiastic about her request, but even he had to admit that that was the only solution, "If he must, but what if he starts a fight?"

"He won't.", she answered directly.

Neville stood up as well, looking away from Dumbledore how was watching him in earnest, "I don't doubt you, Professor, but it is Malfoy."

"He won't be able to. Mister Malfoy knows what all depends on it.", she slowly opened the door and looked at him.

She was several inches smaller than him and had to look up to him, her head in her neck and Neville felt uncomfortable. Like he should bend his knees so she wouldn't have to crack her neck. Like this was right, he was her student and she was his mentor.

She smiled a small one, the wrinkles moving on her skin like paint on the canvases and said again, "Thank you, Neville. I'm grateful for your understanding."

He nodded, "Natural, Professor."

When he stepped out of the office, feeling McGonagall's hand on his shoulder, he heard a little noise from the wall across from the door.

Two Aurors, bulky and grim looking stood there, talking quietly, but when they saw him and Hogwarts Headmistress, they went to greet them.

"Headmistress McGonagall.", the black haired one said and wanted to shook her hand, "We brought you the prisoner."

And then Neville saw him behind the Aurors.

A lith boy stood there, hands behind his back and face down, handcuffed to one of the men.  
The light blond hair was dirty, fell in greasy strands around his pointed face.  
The prisoner clothes were more than ill-fitting, far too big for his emaciated body. The bony collarbones peeked out of the grey fabric and he could see the ankles showing under the trouser, which he had the hold tightly, so it wouldn't slide down from his narrow hips.

He wasn't wearing any shoes.

"Mister Malfoy!", McGonagall shouted out and rushed to the boy, who now looked up and watched her in distrust. Under his left eye, on the sharp cheekbone was a dark purple bruise and his lower lip was split, "Dear Merlin, what happened to him?"

"Azkaban.", the other Auror said and smirked haughtily, "What do you think happen to all the follower of you-know-who?"

"But he's just a boy!", she was furious, holding Malfoys thin arm and not even caring that he was filthy and reeking. Surprisingly he leaned on her.

"A Death Eater nonetheless.", the first one growled and stepped a bit closer.

Malfoy flinched lightly and tried to take a step back, but was still bonded, so he stumbled a bit. McGonagall grabbed him, so he wouldn't fall and was whispering into his ear, while the blond shivered lightly. That wasn't Draco Malfoy he had known for years. That was a child, scared like a hunted animal.

Neville had seen enough.

He took a step forward and said, "Remove the handcuffs."

His voice was quiet but deep and threatening. At first, the Aurors merely raised an eyebrow at him, but after the Carrows and the last year in Hogwarts, Neville wasn't intimidated by anyone anymore.

"NOW!", he spoke as calmly as he was able to, folding the arms in front of his chest and revealing the scars of the battle.  
And then they recognized him.

"You're the one who killed the snake!"

"Remove the handcuffs.", Neville only repeated and now they obeyed. Neville had experienced over the last few weeks how different the people saw him now. That they respected him, worshipped him, sometimes even were scared of him, because of a simple act of despair. They all saw only the young hero who had spoken against Voldemort and helped to end the war. None of them saw him for who he was.

Neville Longbottom. Herbology loving, soft boy.

After a short flicker and a wave with the wand, Malfoys handcuffs dissolved and he started to rub his wrists in earnest.

"Thank you, Gentlemen.", McGonagall's sharp voice was filling the hall and even Neville winced lightly, "But you can go know. Winky."

A small, elve appeared immediately and bowed in front of the Headmistress.

"Winky will show you the way.", her voice was of steel and Neville knew that they had to fear consequences.

Winky walked down the hall, talking quietly with herself and the Aurors followed her.

"Would you be so kind and inform Madam Pomfrey about Mister Malfoys arrival?", the old witch was now talking to him, while she stepped with Malfoy to her office.

Neville just nodded shortly.

Before the door closed behind them, Neville could see Malfoy looking over his shoulder.

The silver eyes peeked out of dark blond curtains and bored into him.

Malfoy didn't look at him with disgust or anger or even humiliation, but with simple curiosity.

Neville flinched, not sure what feeling was building in his stomach. He slowly turned around, ignoring the still whispering portraits outside of the office and the silent mumbling walls of Hogwarts and went to get Madam Pomfrey.


	2. She tries to listen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [HAEVN - The Sea (Audio Only)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hj0TG-bwUYk)

She was laying on the ground in the middle of the field next to her childhood home. Unseen for anyone, because the grass was high and swallowed her whole. Covered her with a nice blue-ish shadow.

The earth was warm and smelt of life and water and spirits.

The summer breeze was ghosting over her long, pale body and even if it was warm, she was covered in goosebumps. The trees nearby were rustling in the wind and telling her stories about long gone times. Stories about life and death, love, and hate and the eternity of the world. It was softly, only a whisper in her ears and she listened carefully to not miss a detail.

She stretched a bit, her naked feet moving over the mud, the toes digging into the clay. She signed content about her being.

Bees and flys were buzzing around her head and she was sure, that more than one little creature had climbed into her hair and claimed it at theirs. Wanting to live in the silver curls, building a home, but sadly she couldn‘t let them stay.

“Would you be so kind and go? I shan't be your new home, but I‘ll provide a rest next time.“

She would come the next day and the day after that, for the rest of the summer until the evenings were getting cold and unbearable to lay on the earthy ground and she would give them a place to rest, to lay and to be like she had done for almost her entire life.

Slowly Luna sat up after she was sure that no living being was in her hair anymore and she wouldn’t hurt them and looked around.

The sun hung low, and red and purple colored the sky.

It was beautiful.

On the cherry wood bench next to her still, not completely reconstructed home, sat her father. Smiling into nothing and reading a book only with his fingers.

Since the war he was...different. Lost in his own brilliant mind and lost in a world she wasn't able to reach.

Slowly, still hearing the softly whispering of the wind and the trees, she walked to him and rested her hand on his head.

For a moment he didn’t react, but then he turned to her, crooked his neck to look up at her and smiled brightly. He never talked anymore, but his eyes and hands and face were still communicating.

His grey hair was warm from the sun and he had a light tan on his face.

“Would you like to go inside?”, she asked him, knowing he wouldn’t want to. He didn’t say anything, but frowned, looking away and watching some spirits dancing in the air.

She sighed again, sitting on the ground and leaned her head on his knee.

“Isn’t it beautiful?”, she whispered nearly silently. His finger tangled in her messy hair and stroke it like he had done her entire life.

She tried to enjoy every second before the sun was gone and the night, with all its darkness and memories would come.

Leaving her father crying like a lost child and frightened of every shadow.

She understood.

Of course, she did.

He had lost his wife, his only love. And then he thought he had lost his daughter, the moon of his life and it had broken him. Made a shadow out of his former self.

She understood, but sometimes she thought she couldn’t stay strong until it was...over. Over in due he was gone or her or the world itself. The war had done so much, had destroyed every living soul. Left them shaking and hurt and almost unable to pick up the pieces. Maybe she had hoped she could be a child for once, now that it was over.  
However, it wasn’t like she had hoped. Her father needed her and she would be there.

Prior to the day a snow white owl with amber eyes had come and brought her a letter from Hogwarts. Headmistress McGonagall and the castle wanted her back for another year full of studies.

She wasn’t sure if she could go back there. She always had loved the school, the ancient castle with her all-knowing stones. She had friends there as well and she knew that Neville would definitely go back. That he was already at the castle to help to give her another chance to be.

But…

Time had changed and her father needed her.

So she had buried the letter under books she would never need to read in a room she never really went in, knowing that if she would hold the letter, feeling the magic waving over her fairy skin, she would have to go back. That she wouldn't be able to resist.

She sighed, feeling her fathers bony fingertips ghosting over her skull and closed the eyes. She had seen enough of that day already.

They stayed like this until it was too cold, too dark and both shivered with the knowledge about the universe.

After she had put her father into bed, now change the roles, she tucked him under the blanket and waited until his breath went even, she sat on the open window in her room. Her legs out in the open and the breeze playing with her hair. Nature had always loved her hair and she had always loved nature, so she let her play with it until she was tired for the day.

“What should I do?”, she asked loudly into the night, but none of the creatures and spirits answered her like they used to. They wanted her to figure it out herself.

Eventually, with a sigh, she went to bed, not able to sleep for a long time.

 

Luna worked for most of the day in the house. Cooked and cleaned and rebuild the broken, destroyed walls, while her father held parchments and papers and books in his hands, watching her, but never able to help her.

It was warm and sunny and the air stood still, not moving a little bit. Sweat was pearling down her shoulder blades and forehead and she asked quietly for a little breeze once in a while.

There was a knock on her door and she knew immediately who it was.

“Come in, Harry.”, she called out, a sponge in her hand and bubbles around her features from scrubbing the pots the Muggle way. It calmed her thoughts and exhausted her body.

Harrys messy head popped in the kitchen and he smiled at her, the glasses crooked on his once-broken nose.

“Hey, Luna.”, he responded and gave her a light kiss on the cheek, ignoring the mess she had made on the floor before. It was slippery and wet, but she didn’t care and he seemed as well.

“Do you need help today?”, he asked her, after he hopped on the counter, watching her and her father who beamed at the dark-haired wizard. Harry never seemed to feel out of place, never was angry with her father about the incident at the war.

“Well.”, Luna mused, trying to bind her hair into a bun, but some curls were falling into her face again and spreading the dishwater in the kitchen and on her white dress, “If you want you could repair the stairs to the basement.”

Harry came often to help her. Not willing to stay in Grimmauld place for his days, surrounded by the ghosts of the past, always demanding him and pulling at his broken heart.

And Luna couldn't walk down the stairs, the clammy cold, the moldy smelling walls. It all reminded her of Malfoy Manor, of her time in the dungeons and her all-consuming fear.

He just nodded and went to the basement, the wand already in his hand and started to work.

Luna could feel his magic around her, like hundreds of little hands were touching her skin softly. It was buzzing and strong and wild, incredibly strong and she liked it. His magic never wanted to harm her, always light and protecting.

She remembered, when she had been an involuntary visitor in Malfoy Manor and he had come as well, his magic had lashed out in order to save Hermione. In order to keep the people, he loves safe and secure.

“Where is Ginny?”, she asked him, moving closer to the stairs and watching the colorful lights waving over the wood and stone, which dances on his distinctive features. It was an interesting looking spectacle.

He twitched and she knew she shouldn’t question him, but she wanted. Something deep inside her demanded to know what was between them, what he felt, what he wanted and it unsettled her. She never felt like that before.

Harry shrugged his shoulders, avoiding her eyes and pointed his wand to the floor. Casting a charm without a word and she could feel him getting tense.

“Sorry.”, Luna mumbled and wanted to turn away, but he coughed out, “We don’t want to stay close, since...”

Since they had canceled their relationship. He didn’t dare to speak it out loud. After they had buried Fred, Remus and Tonks there was nothing left and instead of working on a thing that could be good, Harry went to the Ministry, the Wizengamot due to testify for fallen people, like Narcissa and Draco Malfoy.

And Ginny, one year without the boy she had thought to love, recognized that it wasn’t real love. Simply a wish, a childhood dream, but nothing real.

They had talked and left the fantasy behind.

Still, Harry didn’t like to talk about Ginny, like he had missed something out.

“Sorry.”, Luna repeated and went back to the kitchen, where her father was drawing with watercolors on the wooden table. Displaying a pretty forest and obscure looking creaturs. The colors sunk in the grooves of the wooden table.

“It looks nice, Daddy.”, she murmured after she had placed a kiss on his head and with a flick of her wand, the dished started to clean themselves, not willing anymore to do it by hand.

Losing her sandals, she walked slowly into the garden. Feeling the soft green grass grow beneath her bare feet. Something tickled her behind her ear, touching the new strawberry earring, which hung nearly to her shoulder.

It whispered gently in her ear, “Do you wanna know the truth?”

Luna hummed, the baritone tone vibrated in her chest and her heart jumped lightly.

“Do you?”, the voice touched her ear shell.

“Maybe.”

“Then you should go back to Hogwarts.”

“What will happen to my father?”

The voice snickered, gently without meaning any harm, “The mother will come and be with him. If you want to know the truth.”

“Luna?”, Harry stood behind her and looked at her nervously. He didn’t wear his glasses anymore and his eyes reflected the sunlight, “You’re alright?”

She shrugged, “I think a gnome wanted to tell me something.”

His concern made her nervous. His glance made her nervous and for a short moment, her fingers twitched, like they wanted to move on their own and touch him. Feeling his warm, dark skin under them.

He raised an eyebrow, but looked fond at her, “Can I help you with something else?”

“No.”, she shook her head, trying to shake off the sudden emotions. A light breeze waved over them and Luna looked at the sky, there was no cloud on the light blue canopy,”But if you want we can go swimming. There is a lake nearby and I think I can hear it calling.”

Harry brushed his sleeve over his forehead, vanishing the sweat, which dropped down his neck and collarbone, “That would be a good idea.”

“Good.”, she smiled, “I get Daddy and then we can go if you want.”

She ignored his question for swimming trunks and waved her hand dismissively, “You won’t need it. There will be no one else.”

"But you'll be there.", he was saying while following her inside. She was smiling to herself, "Is it important?"

Her father was laying on the old sofa, sleeping soundly and snoring filled the air. He looked a bit like a child, the blond hair falling over his face.

"I can't wake him up now.", she muttered to Harry, "I'm sorry."

"You still want to go to the lake?", he replied quietly and Luna felt his warm breath tingling over her sensitive skin on the neck. It was an interesting contrast to her hot body and the humid air.

She nodded slowly. It was warm and stuffy and her body yearned for the cold, fresh water.

"Would it be ok if Kreacher looks after your Dad while we go swimming?"

She crooked an eyebrow and smirked, "Yeah, would be quite helpful."

The black-haired boy immediately called out for the older elve, which appeared with a dumb PLOPP in front of them.

"Master?!", he bowed low, his nose almost touching the floor and the long ears quake around his bald head.

"Could you please watch over Mister Lovegood while we are gone?", Harry asked the elve with a soft tone, clearly uncomfortable with his submissive behavior.

"Of course, Sir, Master Potter.", the elve squeezed out and stepped away from them.

Luna pressed a delicate kiss on her father's cheek and followed Harry out of the house.

"You*ll show the way?", he said, already opening his shirt, so a bit air would kiss his skin and cool him down.

"Hmhm.", Luna hummed, put one foot in front of another. they walked in silence, listening to the birds and the trees. Mother nature seemed content about her company, purring lovely words to her.

When they arrived the lake Luna didn't hesitate but simply let the straps of her dress slide down until she was completely naked. Never wore anything under her dresses and her pale skin shimmer in the light. The air was somehow a bit cooler at the lake and the water let her hairs and honey-brown nipples stood up. 

She could feel Harry's eyes on her, heard his stuttering breath and maybe even felt his drumming heart. His heart felt nice, livid around her. It was beating like that just for her. Fast and in a ridiculous funny rhythm. Maybe he felt her heart as well. It was jumping like crazy in her chest and it did this just for him.

The wet sand under their feet gushed between her toes. Slick seaweed grazed her legs and the cold water reached her hip.

With a look over her shoulder, she noticed that Harry was still wearing all his clothes, starring confounded after her. His rosy lips slightly apart.

"Don't you want to come in? It's wonderful.", she called out to him and dove fully under water until only green light reached her open, curious eyes.


	3. He asked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Isaac Gracie - Terrified](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=skyYyiMt3vU)

Harry hated Grimmauld place with his full heart. He hated the dark corridors, the dead house-elves on the walls, which he couldn’t get rid off. The dusty furniture and ancient ceilings. The screaming portrait of Walburga Black, who would not shut up, even if he screamed at her back until his throat was rare and his lungs hurt.

But the most he hated the silence which loomed over the house when the old witch wasn’t in the mood for an argument with him.

Silence brought back his memories and he could hear the dead voices in his head clearly like they all stood right next to him. Whispering to him about their lost lives, lost changes and opportunities. It drove him mad.  
He had thought, after killing Voldemort, he would be free.

He was wrong. They claimed him, hunted him down in the dark, dead silent nights when he tried to sleep or proceed the day before.

No matter how exhausted he was, how hard he had worked at the Burrow, at Grimmauld place or even at Luna's place, he wasn’t able to sleep. His body heavy, but his mind was racing.

So he fleed, avoided the house Sirius had given him and search for a life purpose. For a reason to continue at all.

The first time he had come to Luna's home after the war it was still fresh. The wounds not quite closed and the blood not dry, but he had been restless and anxious to be alone.

Ron was gone with Hermione to search her parents, Neville was at Hogwarts, working day and night and Ginny…  
Ginny looked at him differently and he saw an entirely different person. A red-haired woman he was not in love with, he never would be. She often went to see Dean Thomas and Harry felt nothing at all. No hurt, no jealousy. It was fine by him.

So one night in late May he went to Luna, knowing that she would welcome him without wanting anything.

When he arrived at the house, which still lies in ruins, he knew coming there had been the right decision.

The dirigible plum hung low and had lost some branches, but held some fruits again.  
He was grateful for that. That live blossomed out of war-damaged beings. Hope that he would get better flamed inside him.

“Harry?”, Luna called out to him surprised from the ruff. She was sitting on the open window, her legs swinging and her hair a silver mess.

“Hey.”, he had waved his hand lightly embarrassed. Maybe he should have asked her beforehand and not barking in. Maybe she didn’t want to see him, being the fault of her destroyed home, but Luna beamed at him, “Come in, the door is open for you.”

Slowly he took the steps to the door and it was open like she had said. Almost opening itself under his large hand and he went in. It was clean but chaotic. Parchments, scrolls, and books were distributed on the floor. Strange runes and other symbols were on the walls and in total the house exudes a special magic.

He heard Luna's feet on the floor, coming toward him and suddenly he was buried in a warm hug.  
The scent of thyme and lemon filling his nose and he breathed deep in.

“What a wonderful surprise.”, her dreamy voice said right into his ear and he felt home. Like he belonged there, in her home, in her arms, in this place.

They sat for nearly the whole night in the garden, teacups flowing in front of them and talking.

Once her father came out, wandering like a lost soul but waved at him in recognition.

Luna was never ashamed of her father.

“He didn’t do the right thing.”, she had told him one evening, a charcoal pen and a paper on her lap, sketching her surroundings, “But he was desperate. He didn’t mean to harm you, or Hermione or Ron, but he missed me and was scared for my life.”

“I know.”, Harry had responded and laid his hand on her arm, watching the white blonde hair raising on her body. His warm hand a great contrast to her cold skin.

“That’s nice.”, she smiled, looking at his hand and then continued to sketch his shoulder and hair.

Of course, Hermione and Ron had asked him to come with them to Australia, but he felt out of place between their newfound love. So he had refused and stayed in London, most of the time.  
Helping Luna wasn't his only preoccupation. He attended the trials as well, helping to get the wizardry society straight again.

He had helped Narcissa Malfoy and thanked her in front of the whole Wizengamot for her little lie.

“If she wouldn’t have done that, we all would be dead by now or imprisoned or lost.”, he had told the old witches and wizards in red robes with a steady voice.

They had whispered, shocked that the golden boy testified for the woman who had hosted Voldemort himself.

“Narcissa Malfoy and her son, Draco Abraxas Malfoy, had no choice, no voice in the matter of fact. They weren’t able to do anything against the situation in fear of losing their own lives or the life of the ones they love.”, Harry had stood in the middle of the round room with the high ceilings and his voice echoed from the walls, “But both had helped me, saved my life and with that changed the outcome of the war."

It had helped them. Narcissa had to serve something like community work in an orphanage and Draco went back to Hogwarts.

They lost most of their money and Malfoy Manor, but they were lucky.

Not everyone had got away so well.

After the trials, Kingsley asked him if he would be willing to start Auror training in summer, without his NEWT's.  
Harry had been exited and honored, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to go straight to training without the opportunity to be a teenage boy like he was. Going into clubs, dancing and drinking until the early sun was coloring the nightly sky, feeling free and everlasting.

He wanted this so badly. Living and experimenting, being youth and somehow reckless.

So when Luna dropped her cotton dress on the ground and stood naked in front of him, the lake glistening in the sun, he didn't look away. He followed her soft curves, the small dimple right above her hip and the slightly rounder belly. Her breasts were full and perfect and suddenly he wanted, wanted so badly.

What exactly he wanted, he wasn't sure. They were just friends, weren't they? And there had been Ginny, for a long time and before Cho, but now there was Luna. Her fairy voice, her sensual scent, her round lips, round eyes, round breasts and round hips.

"Don't you want to come in? It is wonderful.", her voice tore him out of his thoughts and slowly, mortified that she would see his body's reaction, took off his clothes. One piece after another while a heated blush spread on his face and chest and he chanted over and over again, "Please don't stay erect. Please don't. God, no."

But Luna had turned away from him, diving into the cool wet and her hair flowing around her. Fast he jumped into the lake before she could turn back to him and saw the little problem below his navel.

She had been right, like always. It felt wonderful. His overheated body cooled down immediately and he felt weightless.

Without his glasses, the world around him was a green, yellow and blue blur. He heard Luna swimming nearby and some singing of the stubborn birds.

"That was an amazing idea.", he called out to the blonde and started to drift through the water. His muscles started to relax and his entire body thanked him for the cooling.

 

Sometime later they laid on the warm sand next to each other, naked and still somehow embarrassed. In the meantime, the sun sets and the air cooled down.

Harry had his eyes firmly closed, though he knew that Luna laid on her back, hair still wet hair like a silver halo around her head and her body must be covered in goosebumps. He laid on his stomach, let the little earthy creatures crawling all over his damp body. His nose was buried in the crook of his arm and the smells around him, mainly Lunas own body smell, made him dizzy.

"Do you go back to Hogwarts?", he asked her, his voice deep and relaxed.

When Luna didn't answer after a few minutes, he opened his eyes and looked at her, even if she was naked.

Her skin was shimmering in the light and she leaned on her elbows, looked down toward him.

"I'm not sure.", she answered him vaguely, "I can't let my father alone at home."

"I understand.", Harry answered, closing his eyes again before he would only gawk at her breasts. But even then, his eyes shut close, he could see them and if he imagines enough, he fancied to feel them as well.

 

Later that night, after he kissed Luna lightly good night, this day a near her rosy mouth, and walked down the country road, he thought about what she had said, that she couldn't let her father alone.

Harry knew, of course, that she was right. Xenophilius Lovegood had lost it completely. His mind a great tribute of the war. He wouldn't ever be the same and if malicious gossips were to say that he needed a bed in St. Mungo's, in Janus Thickey Ward, they were probably not that wrong about it.

But Harry understood that Luna would do everything to save her father of this fate.

Maybe he could find someone who would be willing to help. Someone who has lost someone as well and needed variety. Needed to be needed.

Immediately after he walked around the corner, he apparated away.

He landed in an uneven garden and the loud POPP had woken the gnomes and other beings.

Only after a heartbeat, the lights in the house in front of him went on and he heard familiar voices.

"Who's there?", a woman called out, the wand in her hand.

"It's me, Harry.", he answered and went to the door, where Mrs. Weasley pulled him into a strong hug. It smelled like home, even after the disaster with Ginny.

"Harry my dear.", she spoke in the night, "What are you doing here? It's nearly midnight."  
She pulled him into the house, where Arthur Weasley in a funny looking dressing gown welcomed him.

"Sorry Mrs. Weasley.", Harry answered truthfully, "I helped Luna and we've forgotten the time, but I wanted to ask you something."

"Sure.", the woman said, waving her wand and loud noises in the kitchen announced tea. She sat on one of the chairs at the long table, "What can I do for you?"

Harry licked his lips nervously. Maybe she wouldn't want to, but he needed to try.

"You do know Mister Lovegood, right?"

"Yes, Harry, they are living not that far away from us."

And then he started, told her why he was there and what he hoped for.


	4. He came home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Spoon - WhisperI'lllistentohearit](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IUSdDIspy_A)

When the door closed with a final bang, he heard the Gryffindor shriek, "Mister Malfoy! By Merlin, what happened with you?"  
Draco ignored her words, still looking over his shoulder, a strange feeling in his gut.  
It had been Longbottom, right? The boy must have grown to seven inches over the last months. And killing the snake must have done him good. No bumbling, no nervous stutter. He had just given the guard, Jeff, and Stuart, an order and they had done it.

The headmistress had grabbed his chin, observing his split lip and the bruise. Her cold fingertips felt nice in the hot pounding flesh, and he leaned against it without realizing what he was doing.

"Are there more?", she wanted to know, and he shrugged lightly, although wincing in pain.

The night before he had come to Hogwarts, they had made the most of it. Draco had thought he would die that night. They had come before, punched, kicked and beaten him until he had coughed fresh blood and hot tears were streaming down his face. But never five at once.

He knew one of them; his little sister had been killed by Dracos aunt in the battle. The girl had been only thirteen at that time.

Draco had never punched back, never even tried to fight against the violence. He let them, hands down, face up.

He deserved it, a little voice in the back of his mind always whispered. He deserved every little wound they gave him. So when he nearly couldn't stand up that morning and blood was in his urine, he ignored his pounding body. He deserved it.

"Mister Malfoy, answer me.", he could hear Headmistress McGonagall and jerked out of his thought.

"I'm sorry, Headmistress, what did you ask?", He mumbled, his voice rough and nearly inaudible. He could still feel the large hand around his throat.

"Do you have more injuries?", she sounded irritated, and Draco didn't want to irritate her, one of the only persons who wanted to keep him safe.

"It's not bad.", He whispered and avoided her gaze. His eyes landed on Dumbledore, sitting in a big chair and knitting a sleeveless sweater. The former headmaster didn't look up from his work, but he frowned over his half-moon spectacles, apparently listening to them.

The door opened almost silently, and then Draco heard the smokey voice of Madam Pomfrey, "Minerva?!"

"Mister Malfoy came to us today, and I think he is in need of an experienced healer."

He heard her approach him, her long robes rustling with every step, but Draco's gaze was fixed on the dead old wizard.

'Look at me.', he wanted to scream, 'Look at me and tell me that I deserved it. After...after I wanted to kill you. After what I did."  
But Dumbledore remained silent, only looking once or twice to the blond boy.

"Dear Merlin!", Madam Pomfrey shrieked loudly and grabbed his fairy features, "What happened to him?"

Funnily, McGonagall repeated the guard with a dark, dangerous voice, "Azkaban."

Madam Pomfrey suddenly started to work, her wand and finger whispered over his skin, quietly murmured, "I thought the Gamot put you under house-arrest, but not let you be until you could come here in Azkaban. If we had known about that."

She was shaking her head and lifting his robe without asking first. 

With that dozen dark blue bruises and open wounds came to light. She gasped loudly, and McGonagall clapped her hands in front of her mouth. Even the portraits stopped to whisper, and all eyes were on his small, beaten body. The ribs were clearly under his pale skin. Draco felt ashamed that dozen of former headmasters, even some ancestors were seeing him in this state. Malnourished, beaten and weak. What would his father say if he would see his only son and heir now?

He would be glad that you imbecile are still alive, a small voice whispered into his ear and Draco shivered.

Suddenly everyone was shouting at once, and the loud sounds of dead people filled the room. Like a tornado, turbulent and all scathingly. The voices were ringing in his ears and tried to cover them, blocking the noises until a powerful "STOP IT!" echoed through the room.

Dumbledore was standing in his portrait, the needles carelessly have fallen to the ground, and the wool was rolling under the chair. Making a plait in red and green and Draco feared that the old man would get tangled up and stumble, but Dumbledore moved graceful and repeated in a normal voice, "Stop it. You are too loud for young Mister Malfoy. Poppy, would you please bring him into the hospital wing and take care of him there."

The women nodded approvingly and immediately grabbed his arm, "Come on, Mister Malfoy. You'll be better in a few minutes, and then you can go to your room."

"I'll follow in a minute, and I'll go through everything with you.", McGonagall added, and before the door closed behind his back a second time this day, Draco heard her fuming voice, "What are they doing in Azkaban? A few more weeks and the boy would have been dead!"

"Minerva.", Dumbledores voice echoed through the door, "But now he is here, and we can concentrate on getting-"

The door closed with an audible click, and Madam Pomfrey clutched his arm lightly, "Follow me, Mister Malfoy."

Despite everything, Madam Pomfrey had always liked Draco, and he had liked the old healer as well. Sometimes he had helped her in the hospital wing or had brewed her some natural healing, sleeping or pepper-up potions. During the war, the fatal last year, he nearly never left her side. She hadn't judged him because of this stupid mistake the Dark Mark was.

She just had pinched her wrinkled lips together and asked, "Are you proud of it."

"No.," he had whispered and lowered his eyes, embarrassed and scared of speaking out loud his thoughts. Madam Pomfrey only had laid her hand on his shoulder and said, "Then go to work."

They had healed bruises, broken bones, and twitching limbs from the Cruciatus Curse that year, Draco always in the background, never showing his face to the scared children in Hogwarts.

After entering the hospital wing, a strange feeling of affiliation waved over him, and he felt the tension leave his body. It smelt like it always had been. Like fresh sheets, lavender, and other herbs. Warm, smoky fumes of newly brewed potions filled the air, and Draco acknowledged on the color and the form that it was an anti-nausea potion.

"Sit down and take away this garbage of clothes. I'll get the paste and potions.", the woman said to him, and Draco sat down at one of the beds next to the big windowfront.

Sunshine filled the room, and he felt protected. He stretched his face towards the sun, enjoying the feeling of the warm beams on his skin. In Azkaban, he hadn't seen the sun once. His cell had been in the in the deepest interior of the ancient building. He hadn't seen anything other than the artificial light of a rare used "Lumos" and never extinguished torches.  
He enjoyed the sounds of the wind and the bees outside the castle. In Azkaban, he had only heard the silent cries of the other imprisoners and the heavy footsteps of the guards. Once in a while, he had been able to hear water running down the stonewalls and a hysterical laugh, which always reminded him of his dead aunt, Bellatrix.  
Azkaban, even without the Dementors, had been hell on earth.

Draco tore away the grey rag and laid down on the bed. It was the softest he had laid on since the battle. His limbs got heavy, his whole body arched. The broken ribs and split lip were pounding, wrapped him in dull pain, but he was exhausted. His lids fall shut, and the last thing he had in mind was light brown eyes. A bit like the amber necklace his mother had in her quarters and never wore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now it really starts.  
> The first 4 chapters were quite short because I wanted to get to used to my 4 sweethearts and so you could get to know them a bit. What differences and similarities you'll find and so on.  
> I have a lot of fun so far to write it and I hope you enjoy it as well.
> 
> And a big hello to [CordeliaOllivander](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CordeliaOllivander/pseuds/CordeliaOllivander)  
> thanks for being an awesome support so far =)


	5. A strange flutter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neville ignores a lot and Draco becomes human.  
> As Narcissa had said to Snape once, "He's just a boy."
> 
> Ah...and an awkward talk with Minnie McGonagall...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song:  
> [Haux - Heartbeat](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MLfD5CooS7Q&t=0s&list=LL4E33utDrli-Vw8Vvk0ZQyQ&index=11)

After informing Madam Pomfrey, he went through the dark halls to the greenhouses. His every step echoed from the stone walls, and the portraits cracked their eyes open to watch him.

Neville hated it, the new attention. Since the war, since he had taken the role of the leader because NO ONE ELSE WOULD DO IT, everyone always watched him. They watched Seamus and Ginny and Luna as well. They had led the small group of children and teenager in Hogwarts to a rebellion with an unknown outcome. They were all lucky, some more, some less.

Seamus limbs were still twitching once in a while, the muscles in his cheeks jumping and on his back were three grande scars were the Carrows tried out another slicing spell. Snape had saved the Irish boys live, cursing under his breath the whole time. Seamus often laughed about it, about him being a hero, but Neville could see in his eyes that he was still afraid of that significant red light.

Luna still had nightmares, Neville knew. She couldn't sleep for long anymore, always waking up with a hard gasp and shivering hands. Dreams about losing her father, losing her mother, losing her friends and the war itself.

Ginny wasn't able to stay still. Always on the run and always looking back. The grief of losing Fred so deep in her bones that she sometimes started to cry without any other reason.

Neville just wanted to be like himself. Like he had been before. He knew that the people looked at him and thought, that he had preserved his innocence. They were wrong. He had seen too much, heard too much and had done things he wasn't exactly proud of. Neville heartbeat was like the steady bang of war drums. He always felt the fear rising in his neck like they were at his heels; like invisible hands tried to grab him and torture him again. He merely wanted it to end. Wanted it to be like before.

When and how exactly it was before, he couldn't explain.  
But they were all lucky, he knew. At least they lived. Not like Collin or Fred or Tonks or Remus Lupin, who he had admired. But at what price? He often thought.

The first step into the summer sun warmed him, and the perpetual fear fell from his shoulders. He took a deep breath, trying to ignore his inner tumult and walked down the small road to his favorite place.

When he opened the door of the previously reconstructed greenhouse seven, she was already there.  
Dark blonde curls and a curvy body, Hannah Abbott worked at one of the tables with a wild rose. Slowly she looked up from her hands when she heard the door and him approaching. A light blush spread on her chubby cheeks and her sweet green eyes twinkled, "Hello Neville."

"Hey, Hannah.", He greeted her back and turned away to get some gloves. Usually, he would work without them, loving the muddy earth under his nails and in his hands. But that day he wanted to repot the newly Mandrake, and they were some snappy little beasts.

"How are you?", the Hufflepuff-girl asked him, and he wished she wouldn't be there.

Neville liked Hannah quite well. After the funerals, when Neville first came back to Hogwarts to work, Hannah and he got closer. They had sat by Hagrid's hut, watched the sunsets and talked. They had always been somewhat like friends, but then they got to know each other better.

One evening she had told him, that she liked him even before the war and there was never really the time to tell him. Her voice was unsure and shaky. Neville himself didn't understand why there wasn't time for that before. He believed that there was hardly a better time than during a war.

They had kissed after her exclamation long and deep. Something Neville had never done before. She tasted of spit and mouth and summer skin which wasn't bad per se, but somehow not what he had expected, an anticlimax. He always had assumed a kiss would taste like Christmas, like the best chocolate he could ever eat, and it would spark and fizzle in his whole body. It hadn't. But he had ignored it, kissed her back, accurately imitated her. The pressure, the amount of lips, tongue, teeth.

When she had rubbed her hand over his cock, apparently trying to get him hot, he had fumbled with the buttons of her robe, and his hands had wandered up her skirt. As his finger had dipped into the wet, hot cave, Hannah had moaned his name. Her lips were brushing his earlobe and leaving them slightly damp and cold. It had been exciting and different, but something had been missing. Although they had done it multiple times, touched each other, explored the bodies of the other sex, he couldn't find it. Then he had stopped it, avoided Hannah as much as it was possible.

"I'm ok.", He murmured shortly, not sure if he should tell her about his conversation with McGonagall. If she had been Luna or Ginny or maybe Harry, he would have. He would have told her about his unnerving feelings and what he thought about this situation. That he absolutely didn't want to share a quarter with Malfoy. That was utterly sure they would kill each other within a week because now Neville wouldn't let Malfoy taunt him anymore. And he would tell them how awful Malfoy had looked. His dark, so dark shadows under the eyes, his filthy hair, his trembling features, which didn't tremble much enough. An indication that he had more injuries than just the ruptured lip and the bruise on his cheek. He would talk with them how he was supposed to act around him. But with Hannah...it was different.

"You?"

She sent him a beautiful smile, not too wide but showing her perfect teeth nonetheless, "I'm fine, thank you. What are you doing today?"

"Repotting the Mandrakes.", he answered her and nodded towards the desk down the hall.

Hannah clapped into her hands, some dirt was falling to the ground, and she asked, "Do you need help?"

He knew that she didn't mean to be intrusive. He had given her false hopes, and now he needed to find a solution without breaking her beautiful heart.

"No, thanks, Hannah.", He grabbed some new pots and his dark green earmuff and went down the greenhouse, where the Mandrakes were waiting. With a lazy wave of his wand, he set a silent charm around him and started to work.

While working with the plants and flowers and fungi, he forgot the time, his surroundings and sometimes even his name.  
The only thing that mattered was the earthy smell, the feeling of something living in his hands growing and getting stronger and the pleasant arch in his muscles after a long day.

The next time he looked up, he saw Hannah waving at him, trying to get his attention. He shoveled some earth on the last Mandrake and ended the silent charm.

Hannah stepped closer, brushing any wrinkles out of her yellow dress, "It's past dinner time."

Neville, who had rubbed his arm over his forehead and mixed some sweat with dirt, looked at her startled, "Really? I didn't notice at all. Just give me a second and then we can go together, ok?"

He vanished the worst loam tracks of his jeans and shirt and went to wash his hands carefully. Once he had come into the Great Hall with his earth-brown fingers and Headmistress McGonagall had nearly kicked him out again. Her thin lips had gotten thinner with disapproval.

When he scrubbed them with water and soap, he could feel Hannah approaching him from behind, and he went tense.

"Is everything ok with us, Neville?", She asked quietly, scared of his answer. And he understood. He really did. Hannah was interested in him, in him. The person who he was and not the hero the Prophet wrote about. He couldn't give her back what she wanted to give him.

"Yeah, what do you mean?", He said and cursed himself. Coward.

Hannah seemed to hesitate a bit and then, "Do you want to come into my quarters tonight? Demelza is with her family, and I'm alone."

He could hear her suggestion, and for a short moment, it sounded tempting. Knowing that in his quarters none other than Draco Malfoy was waiting for him, maybe would mock him, but he couldn't say yes. Couldn't go with her. Perhaps even sleep with her, kiss her like lovers would do, touch her like beloved touched each other and gave her hope, so he said, "I'm sorry, Hannah."

Slowly he turned around to look at her, to make it even more evident. For a moment she seemed not to understand his subtitle meaning, smiling at him and her fingers nervous tangled with each other. Then,

"Oh.", she whispered, and Neville could see a flicker in her eyes, "Oh, I understand."

"I'm sorry.", He repeated quietly, not able to look into her eyes anymore, which didn't hold any sparkle anymore.

Hurriedly she turned away and stalked out of the greenhouse, not reaction to his calling once.

He sighed deeply, rubbing his hands over his face, "Damn."

 

Instead of going to the Great Hall for some dinner, he went directly to his room. In front of the wooden door, he waited for a long time. He listened carefully at the door, one ear laying flat against the dark wood and tried to hear anything from behind it.

But there was nothing. Just as he wanted to grab the handle and push the door open, Neville heard a muffled hawk.

Behind him stood Headmistress McGonagall and watched him with those specific intense cat eyes.

"You missed dinner, Mister Longbottom.", she asserted and gave him a disapproval survey, "You need to eat if you want to work hard."

"I'm sorry, Professor.", He mumbled and tried to avoid her eyes.

"I've seen young Miss Abbott earlier, and she wasn't in a good state. Did something happened?"

He considered about talking to her, nearly the only parent figure he had ever had, with his Mom and Dad in St. Mungo's. Maybe she would be able to give him advice. With his grandmother, a wonderful woman he admired to heaven and back, he couldn't talk about feelings and sexually human interactions. And for a short moment, he believed he shouldn't speak to his Headmistress about it as well. After lingering too long, she asked, "Neville? Is everything alright?"

"I'm not sure, Professor.", He mumbled and tried to be brave, to suppress the mortified feelings about that particular subject.

Headmistress McGonagall pointed at one of the stone benches in the hall and went to sit down; her face a blank mask.

After a while, Neville gulped audibly and started, "I don't...I'm not sure what to do."

His teacher had folded her wrinkled hands on her lap and waited patiently for him to continue.

"Hannah, she seems to like me more than I like her. I...damn it."

"Language, Mister Longbottom."

"Sorry.", His hand wandered automatically to his neck, rubbing it and tangled his fingers with his hair, "When we...when we got closer, intimate, I didn't feel anything. It was just like touching...I don't know."

Now he was blushing furiously, heat spreading over his face and sweat broke lose.

"Like touching a sister?", the woman tried to help him, sensing his misery and embarrassment.

"No, not like touching a sister.", He stuttered and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, "More like touching an object. I don't want to say that a woman is an object, please don't misunderstand me, but nothing happened. Down there and in my mind. Am I broken? Am I not supposed to enjoy it like a normal teenager? Am I not capable of feeling love?"

He looked up, now asking the right question. The question which had fretted him. Left him lost in his own post-war world and insecure and lonely.

Professor McGonagall, who had heard things like that so often in her years as a teacher, merely smiled and shook her head, "Don't worry, Neville. Feelings will come in the future, and you'll enjoy everything you are supposed to. And if not, if intercourses are not satisfying for you, then you still don't have to worry. It is normal to have a lack of sexual desires."

Both of the blushed with her words, and he squirmed uneasily but felt a bit better after that.

"It is quite normal to not feeling anything like that at all after a war. When you feel secure and safe in your environment again, then the rest will come naturally."

Neville swept his sweaty hands over his trousers and smiled at her, "Thank you."

But then he remembered something and his brows furrowed instantly, "You came to talk to me about Malfoy, right?"

Her chest expanded, breathing deep in and then she nodded shortly, gazing at him over her glasses, "That's right. Mister Malfoy was in the hospital wing earlier, but Madam Pomfrey sent him after a long sleep and treatment to your room."

So, he was in the room, Neville thought and something twisted in his gut. Remembering his broken, damaged body and the big, scared eyes.

"Is he alright?"

"You see.", The older woman said and clapped her hands lightly together, "His injuries will be fine in a few days, then he will be able to work with you and Madam Pomfrey. But his mind."

She sighed, tiredly.

"Mister Malfoy was abused in Azkaban, and he isn't well. He won't be for a long time. Poppy had used a diagnostic spell for mental illnesses, and Mister Malfoy had given up. I know it is a lot to ask, but I beg you to help him. To give him a change and maybe even protect him from the violence from others. He'll need it. After what apparently happened in Azkaban."

"Did they more than beat him?"

She hesitated and then, "They are not better than the Carrows."

Neville flinched, his heart clenched forcefully, and acid gathered in his mouth. The Carrows were nearly as bad as Bellatrix Lestrange and the rest. Torture was their daily bread and thinking about them made him want to rage, to shout out loud and damage something. To hurt.

He tried to pull himself together, waves of anger rolled over him, and he shivered alarmingly, but he clenched his fists and nodded, "Of course. I'll try to help him."

"Thank you, Neville. I know it is another plea, and maybe you would wish for me to ask someone else, but there is no one.",

She, once again, laid her hand on his shoulder, thanking him in her own way, "Perhaps now would be a good time to go to bed. It is nearly midnight."

Slowly he stood up, waving the dust away and went to the door.

Before he could open them again, he heard her say, "And Neville, you'll find what you search soon. Just don't try to look for it. It will come."

Not sure what to answer to her cryptical message he didn't understand in the slightest, he just shrugged his shoulder.

After another deep breath and straightening his back, he opened the door.

The room was nearly completely dark. Only one charmed candle was cast shadows on the walls. McGonagall had been right, the room was a bit bigger than when he had left it that morning, but not much.

There were two single beds without curtains like he was used to in the Gryffindor tower and they stood merely three feet apart. At the foot of the bed were each one small commode which was probably expanded in the inside with a spell. Between the beds stood a large nightstand were they could put some personal things.

Then his gaze flickered to the small figure under the sheets at the right bed. Draco Malfoy was sleeping deeply, only his white hair and a part of his face visible. He didn't move at all, made no sounds and for a short moment, Neville thought the blond boy was dead. With silent movements, Neville took off his clothes and the muddy boots and climbed into his own bed. Malfoy laid with his face to him, and in the warm light of the candle Neville could see that the lip wasn't split anymore, but it had an ugly green color, as well as the bruise at his cheek.

He looked somehow younger than eighteen years, like a child. Malfoys delicate hand which laid next to his head, the wrist far too small, no meat on his bones, clenched and his face scrunched a bit. He made a small distressed noise but didn't wake up. His heart-shaped lips opened a bit, breathing hard and fast and his eyes seemed to flicker under the lids.

For a long moment, Neville considered to let him sleep, to let him be trapped in his nightmares, but then he remembered his promise to Headmistress McGonagall and his awful individual dreams. Carefully, not to startle the boy more than necessary, he laid his hand on Malfoys shoulder.

"Wake up.", He murmured, "You're dreaming shit."

At first, Malfoy didn't move, didn't wake up and appeared to be captive in his dream, but suddenly he jolts up, eyes wide open and a silent scream in his throat.

His hands moved frantically, searching for his wand and his blond hair stuck on his sweaty head. He could see bruises in the form of a giant hand on Malfoys neck. What have they done to him?

"Calm down, Malfoy.", Neville said and watched him warily, "Everything alright, you've just had a nightmare."

The blond clutched his blanket to his chest, which still expanded far too fast for Neville's liking and shivering like mad. He reached for him, wanting to calm him, but Malfoy jerked back and a rough, "No, don't!", escaped his mouth.

"Sorry.", Neville held up his hands apologetic, "Just look at me. I won't hurt you, Malfoy."

The blond hesitantly looked Neville in the eyes, the silver orbs flickering.

"You are safe here, in Hogwarts."

Malfoy stared at him, bewildered, but it seemed to help because his breath came out less desperate and less squeezing than before and the trembling stopped.

"Do you need something?", The Gryffindor asked slowly, "Some sleeping draught? Dreamless potion?"

"No," Malfoy responded fast, shaking his head, "No, I don't need that."

"Ok.", Neville laid on his own bed and wrapped his blanket over his bare legs, "Then, good night."

He waved his hand, and the candle doused all at once. The tension in the room was palpable. And Neville was sure that he wouldn't be able to sleep for a very long time. He turned and tossed for some time, his mind racing, but eventually, he found a comfortable position. The hard work had paid off. His muscles went heavy and slept crept onto him like the thick fog in the moorland in Ireland.

 

The first few days were awkward and tense. They moved around each other as if they were delicate china, trying to avoid each other at all costs. Malfoy was mostly gone when Neville raised his head after a good night sleep. The bed made, even if they hadn't any house elves to help them, and no evidence, that Neville had a new roommate indeed. The blond was at the hospital wing, assisting Madam Pomfrey and got help himself and never attended any meals in the Great Hall. Neville wasn't sure if the boy has eaten even a bit, still far too lean. He looked unhealthy and sick. More than once Neville wanted to take Malfoy to the kitchen or to Molly Weasleys Sunday gatherings.

Sometimes Malfoy went to one of the greenhouses to help to rebuild them, but never to one of the already working groups. The Slytherin tent to keep by himself, an expressionless mask on his pointy face and acting deaf to the outraging words towards him. Neville always kept an eye on the blond boy and distracted the other helpers, when their words went too harsh, too spiteful so they wouldn't go too far and attack him. He still ignored Malfoys stunned face when that happened and waved his wand carelessly, reconstructing his second home.

Nevertheless, Neville worked in the greenhouses until late at night and tiptoed in his room when the sun was long gone, and the shadows at the walls were more significant and daunting. So mostly they hadn't any touchpoints.

Malfoy had nightmares nightly. It started with a frown on his pale face and tiny pearls of sweat on his upper lip. He whimpered or groaned quietly, tossing in his bed around until the blanket had fallen to the floor and his feet were tangled with his pajama bottoms, and his shirt seemed to strangle him.

Neville always intervened, waking him up with gentle hands on his shoulder and softly spoken words. The blond never wanted to take a potion, always moving into the corner of his bed and gasp for air until his drumming heart calmed down.

It was one of those nights, not ten days since Malfoy had come to Hogwarts when Neville finally asked him after he had turned out the light, listening to Malfoys shuffle in his bed, "Why don't you want to take a dreamless potion?"

He could hear Malfoy wheezing in surprise. Neville turned to his side, so he could maybe make out the other boys feature in the dark room. The moon lightened the room in silver light, and being only a few feet apart he could see Malfoys pinched face.

"It's none of your business.", Malfoy drawled, but it didn't have the same effect as it did then, when they were younger. Not the same hardness and Neville ignored it.

"I just don't get it. I mean, I've got some nightmares as well, but if it were like yours, I would've taken a potion already.", He saw that Malfoy turned away, showing him his back and sighed. He had hoped that they would maybe start to talk. Perhaps get a bit closer. He had just closed his eyes when Malfoy began to speak.

"I'm scared that I won't wake up once I've taken a potion. It happened a few times when I was still at home.", his voice sounded small shaky, "I can ask Headmistress McGonagall if I can switch the room or you can just throw a silent-charm over me."

Neville suck in the air, "Why would I do that?"

"I'm disturbing you.", he answered, and it wasn't nearly audible, "I'm sorry if I stop you from sleeping."

"Merlin, Malfoy. It would be really cruel if I would let you sleep through your nightmares, wouldn't it?"

"Yeah, probably."

"You don't bother me, Malfoy."

"Ok."

"Stop being afraid of me.", Neville huffed.

"Ok."

"Yeah?"

"Ok."

 

When Neville woke up the next day, Malfoy was still in the room, still asleep. His almost white hair mussed and the rosy lips slightly parted. Something in Nevilles inside jerked in an not entirely unpleasant way. Shocked he turned away, got dressed and wanted to go to the Great Hall for breakfast, but something stopped him. Slowly he turned back and shook the other awake,

"You wanna go to breakfast with me?"

Malfoy looked confused and somewhat startled, His silver eyes big and glassy from sleep, and on his right cheek some pillow marks.

Neville had never thought that Malfoy could look so human, but at this moment the rich boy taught him a better.

Strangely Malfoy looked more alive than he had the last few days, Merlin, maybe since sixth school year. The shadows under his eyes weren't in a dark shade of purple and blue anymore, but just a light grey and Neville was glad about it. Shortly he asked himself if Malfoy went back to sleep after the nightmares. Judging from his exhausted face every day, probably not.

He looked so human, that a small arch waved over the Gryffindor, his finger twitched for a touch. He ignored it, with a little twinge in his stomach and waited in front of their room. He heard Malfoy rustling and walking between the beds, a loud bang, and him cursing. Hitting his foot on the corner only made him more human, and Neville grinned.

Then they walked together to the Great Hall, and Neville tried to ignore the startled faces. He felt the blond wavering right before it. One of the helpers, who had been a year older than they were, crushed his shoulder into Malfoy and tackled him a bit.

"Watch where you're going, Malfoy.", The guy hissed, but before Neville could retort, he was gone. Malfoy went pale and bit his lip, eyeing the door, and Neville asked, "You wanna grab something from the kitchen?"

He seemed to consider it, but then shook his head slowly.

So they went into the Great Hall and sat down at the nearest table. Like Neville had thought before, Malfoy only took a small cup of tea and didn't eat properly. He was far to thin, his bones visible and his skin too sick looking, and he only sipped at the hot drink. He waved his hand repulsive when Neville asked him if he would like some toast. He looked ill, a damp green color spread on Malfoys nose and it seemed as he tried to hide behind his hair.

Without asking again, Neville laid some apple and a half sandwich on Malfoys plate and raised an eyebrow, when the blond wanted to push it away.

"You need to eat when you want to work with me today."

Malfoy frowned lightly, but then responded, "Well, maybe I don't want to."

Neville knew that they were being watched. All eyes were on the hero and the traitor, the Death Eater and between the harsh whispering and angry glances, he could feel Headmistress McGonagall's approval.

"Trust me. You want to.", Neville smirked, and something interesting happened:

A dark pink blush spread on Malfoys face, and he blinked rather rapidly, unsure what to say. It looked nice. The color made him look more human, more alive and something jumped in his stomach again. He longed, but for what, Neville didn't really understand.

So he continued to grin, ignoring his trembling fingers and strangely fluttering nerves and poked him in the side with his elbow.


	6. The mother came

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mother came and Luna went to Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellu guys and sorry that it took me a while before I uploaded the next chapter.
> 
> Only one more week, than we have (in Niedersachsen) Germany summer holidays and I have so much more time to write.  
> Only one more week... =D
> 
> I hope you like it and please feel free to comment or leave a kudo. I'm always so excited to see you responding to it =)
> 
> Lots of love
> 
> Song:  
> [The Dø I A Take Away Show](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qu577tNp1hA&list=LL4E33utDrli-Vw8Vvk0ZQyQ&index=29)

It was early morning. The sun hadn't shown her beautiful beams through the morning clouds, and a heavy mist covered the fields around the house. It was warm again, far too warm for the groggily hour, but there was a fresh blow of the wind once in a while. It was an excellent beginning to a new day. Warm and cold at once and unsure if it would be a day you'll want to remember or if it would blur in your memories of that summer when you were young.

Luna sat on the bench in front of her house and listened to the dirigible plum gentle whisper in the air. The leaves were rustling, the plums singing and the roots telling her stories about the tree's healing.

There was a big teacup in her lap. Her hand clapped around the ceramic firmly and warming her still moring-cold finger. Hot steam twirled around her, and the smell of lavender and lemon filled her nose. She held her eyes closed, listening and smelling the world around her. Dreams were filling her mind, so colorful that others would shriek away.

Luna decided that this would be a day she would remember when she heard the whisper next to her ears again, "So, do you wanna know the truth?"

"Which truth?"

"The truth, simply.", The voice giggled, and a chill waved over Luna's arms. The small hairs standing up and the damp summer air wasn't as warm as it used to be mere seconds before.

"Who is the mother?", Luna asked, knowing that the spirits and gnomes sometimes revealed the future. She had thought about the little creature the days before. Had thought about its word and the mother. The mother could be her own, but that would mean her father was going to die. That her mother would come and get him, help him to find his way through the mist that separated the two worlds. The world of the living and the world of the ones who had to move on.

For Luna, being dead, wasn't the end of everything. Death simply meant to take the next step, to move on and start over again.

In a new world, sometimes with people they had known before, sometimes without.

"Don't ask that question.", the voice chirped, "The mother will come today, and then you can go to Hogwarts, to learn the truth."

"But, what truth is it? About what?"

"About everything and nothing.", It jabbered, and Luna could feel it's excitement. It was like a thunderbolt, crackling in the air.

"I already know about nothing.", Luna whispered when she heard her father's footsteps coming towards her.

The creature didn't answer, the air felt normal again, and Luna knew, that it was gone. With a loud sighed he sat next to her and took Luna's petite hand in his wrinkled one.

Her father was still in his, and his face was sleep rumbled, but the dark eyes bright and full of happiness.

"You slept well?", She asked, her heart still heavy in her chest. The tiny fear of losing him present and palpable.

He nodded, and the dark blond hair fell over his shoulders. He looked younger then. Nearly like a child and he was so alive. She could feel the life surrounding him, flowing around him.

He tugged at her sleeve, hinted that they should go to the house and probably to the kitchen to eat some breakfast.

Deliberately she followed him, her naked feet digging into the stones and sand and earth. She needed to feel the connection.

Maybe earth would tell her about that mother. 

Her father sat on the table in the kitchen, an old Quibbler edition in his hands, while she began to make porridge the muggle way. Her father and before him, her mother, had always made breakfast without magic. It made them connected with the worlds within their world.

Maybe she should try to publish them again. Until her father was well enough for doing it himself yet.

If he would ever be well enough again, a small voice in the corner of her mind reminded her. She jerked lightly; she would do everything so he could be well again.

While they waited for the milk and the water for tea to boil she sat on the counter and watched him. He read the paper with joy and curiosity. His face full of different expressions and once he laughed, snorted with full force and a small smile stole onto her face.

Even if he would never be the same, she thought, even if she would have to be at home and watch him for the rest of their lives, moments like these were priceless.

"I love you, daddy.", she said, and he beamed at her, his own love written on his face.

 

That day she worked in the garden. The sun shone hard and hot down on her, and the blonde hair was plastered on her forehead, although she was wearing a hilarious looking straw hat she had gotten from Neville's grandmother once.

Her hands were broad in the mud, the hem of the dress already dark brown. Luna had decided a few weeks ago, that she wanted to plant some herbs and spices in her garden. And now she was surrounded by the smell of mint and basil, thymine, oregano and other scents. She was mucking her hand harder and deeper into the earth, digging her thin fingers in it until she was satisfied with the among of mud under her nails and the tender feelings of the plants.

Harry hasn't come that day, which made her unsure and somehow angry.

Jealous, she told her self and hurled a particular stone away with more force than necessary. She had become accustomed to his presence, and it became self-evident that he came daily and helped her, talked to her. Without him, she longed for his voice, his gentle baritone, and his insecure smiles. She wanted to see his dark skin in the sun, like sanded pearwood. Luna always had like the boy. She had liked his honesty, his bravery and that he was himself, even after everything that happened to him. But since there had been Ginny and she and Ginny were friends, she had never said something. Never allowed to feel.

Maybe he was with Ginny, she thought, and her stomach jerked violently. Maybe with George, who needed company since his other half and part of his soul had died.

Don't be like that, she told herself, others need him too and plucked forceful at a big stone.

But when she heard the sound of approaching footsteps which were not her fathers, she looked up with a twittering heartbeat.

It wasn't Harry.

They were softer, lingering and for a short moment fear filled her whole body.

The mother has come.

With a drumming heart and shaking hands, Luna stood up and tried to see her against the sun.

When the mother stood in front of her, wearing a floral dress with an apron and dark red hair, she started to laugh hysterically.

"Luna?", Mrs. Weasley asked baffled because of the blonde's reaction, "Are you alright, my dear?"

"Yes.", she gasped; tears in her eyes, "Yes, of course, I am, Mrs. Weasley."

The mother had come.

Mrs. Weasley watched her warily, but after a while, she sent the blonde girl a bright smile, speaking quietly, "I haven't seen anyone laughing like this since..."

Luna became still, remembering that the women in front of her had lost a son. That Mrs. Weasley still mourned Fred.

"I'm sorry.", She grimaced, but the red-haired women waved her hand dismissively, "Please continue. It is nice to see you children enjoy yourself."

Luna thumped the earth off her knees and pointed to the house, "Would you like some tea?"

The brown eyes went soft, and Mrs. Weasley nodded. Together they walked down the little path, and Luna sent her to the bench while going into the house for making tea.

Inside her home, it was cool and goosebumps spread on her arms and legs.

Her father was sitting in the living room and working on a construction with shells they had collected at the sea a few years ago.

"Do you want to come outside? We have a visitor.", She proposed, but Xenophelius ignored her for inspecting one of the blue-ish shells.

When the water was boiling, she put it into a pot with fresh mint and sage leaves and went back outside to Mrs. Weasley.

In the meantime, the mother of her best friend; the women who had embraced Harry as one of her own, explored the garden.

"It's beautiful out here.", she pointed out to Luna and on her slightly wrinkled face was showing something like content.

Luna gave her one of the cups with tea and sat next to her on the bench. They were silent for a long time, which was interesting. Usually, people tend to speak a lot with Luna because they weren't sure how to deal with her. Luna herself liked the silence. She was calm and her limbs relaxed and the cup of tea in her hand, smelling blissful.

Only after finishing the first tea and indicating, that she wanted another, Mrs. Weasley began, "Do you know why I'm here?"

Ignoring the question itself, Luna poured her another cup and stated, "I really would like to go back to Hogwarts."

She observed Mrs. Weasley's face, which flickered with surprise, "So, you know why I'm here?"

Luna sipped on her tea and shrugged, "I'm not sure, but you are a mother and mothers like to help, right?!"

The women blinked. Apparently not sure how to respond to that, but after a moment she took Luna's hand in hers, "If you want, I could watch over your father while you go back to Hogwarts."

"I know.", The girl replied and curled a blonde lock around her finger. Her strawberry earring had become tangled with some parts of the silver mess on her head.

Mrs. Weasley gaze followed her fingers for a while until she couldn't hold onto her anymore and summoned a brush, "Let me, please?!"

Luna beamed at her and turned around so that she could work through the thick hair, while they were talking about her father and Hogwarts, about Ron and Hermione, who were still in Australia, and Mrs. Weasley was paralyzed with fear because her son would bloody not talk to her daily.

She talked about Fleur, who was pregnant and showed her happiness about that pleasant surprise.

Mrs. Weasley even talked about George, who worked day and night at the shop so that he could re-open it within the next weeks.

"He says.", She croaked and the hands motionless for a while, but still in Luna's hair, "He says that they need it. Laughter and Joy."

"Maybe he needs it so that he won't miss Fred that terribly.", Luna mussed, and she heard the women sobbing after mentioning her dead son's name.

When they had drunk the last drop out of their second pot of tea, Luna said, "Would you really like to help my father?"

Mrs. Weasley frowned, and her hands came up to cup Luna's heart-shaped face between them, "I would love to, Luna-dear."

"Wonderful.", Luna extolled and did the same with her hands, which got her strange laughter from the witch, "I think you will treat him kindly. That would be wonderful."

Before they waved goodbye, Mrs. Weasley went to say hello to Luna's father, who took an instant likening on the red-haired witch.

 

The next day Luna went to Hogwarts to discuss some certain parts of her return with Headmistress McGonagall.

She apparated right next to the gates, even thou the wards weren't entirely reconstructed, and the would have let her in.

Falteringly she walked up the road. She hadn't been at the castle since the battle, so she wasn't sure what to expect. For sure, Neville had told her that the rebuilding went well so far, but he was there every day and was used to the broken stones, burned patches of grass and shattered windows.

Her naked feet were digging into the mud with every step she took and the closer she came to Hogwarts, the louder the castles whisper got. Welcoming her back with open arms and sweet, sweet words.

It wasn't as bad as she had thought. The worst damage was gone, and Hogwarts didn't seem to be hurt anymore.

She met once or twice some helpers, how waved at her happily, but she went without further distraction to the front steps.

The headmistress was already waiting for her. The gargoyle to the office moved to open for Luna after she said her name.

"Miss Lovegood.", The older witch stepped forwards and took Luna's hand in her. It was covered with light age spots, and Luna liked it. It showed how wonderful the woman had lived until so far. Luna's thumb caressed over one of them, and she was amazed at how soft, and even the skin felt.

"Hello, Headmistress."

"You wanted to talk to me?", McGonagall started and pointed to one of the chairs with the red cushion.

"Yes, Ma'am.", Luna responded and hopped on the chair, her legs swinging and spread earth on the old carpet, "I would like to come back in September."

Apparently, Luna had got her off-guard, because her thin eyebrows climbed up and her hands, who had wandered over the dark wooden desk before, hung frozen in the air, "You do?"

The blond nodded excitedly, her legs swung even faster, "Yes, Mrs. Weasley offered to take care of my father while I'm gone."

She looked around and viewed Albus Dumbledore knitting in his portrait. He was watching her with mischievously twinkling eyes, and she waved at him, "Hellu, professor."

Professor McGonagall, who watched the bright girl in front of her, smiled. She always had liked the Ravenclaw. Sensible, highly intelligent and able to be empathetic for every living creature, but so deep in her own world, that she sometimes missed the reality.

'No, you get it wrong. She doesn't miss reality, she just has her own.'

She waited until Luna looked back at her, the cornflower-blue eyes wide and bright, "Then, why did you wanted to talk to me?"

She bit her lip, suddenly shy, "Because I need to ask if you could allow me to go home on the weekends."

Normally, the headmistress would have shaken her head. For a seventh year it wasn't allowed to do that, going home over the weekends, but now, after the war; everything had changed.

"Of course you are permitted to go home, Luna."

"Really?", the girl beamed at her like she had opened the pandora box and it was compensation for all unpleasantness, "Thank you, Headmistress."

 

Shortly after that Luna stood in front of Neville quarters and without thinking about anything, she pushed the door open.  
Someone shrieked loudly, and instead of Neville like she was used to, she stared at silver eyes and her heart skipped a beat.

 


	7. He was the help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because Harry is the boy who lived to help.  
> Savoir complex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harrys song:  
> [Kings Of Leon - Pyro](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gFp7q-IJqno&list=LL4E33utDrli-Vw8Vvk0ZQyQ&index=57)

Harry walked down the halls in the Ministry. It was one of the red shimmering, near the Auror department and with the direct access to the Unspeakable, which whom they had to work a lot together.

He wore a dark violet robe, which was a nice contrast to his black hair and green eyes. It billowed in the wind of his rapid pace, and his heart was beating far too loud, far too anxious.

He shouldn't be that nervous, he told himself, It's just a dark about the future.

When he reached one of the black doors, his destination, he stopped in front of it. For a long time, he debated with himself, if he should knock on the door. His hand was hovering over the handle.

 

After he had talked with Mrs. Weasley about Luna, she had kissed him goodbye on the forehead, and he had stepped into the sloo to go to Grimmauld Place.

Kreacher had waited for him with dinner in the foyer, bouncing up and down, when Harry took one of the tuna sandwiches and ate them without having an enormous appetite.

He followed the ancient elve into the almost greasy looking kitchen. Dust whirled around, and there were muddy prints on the floor. 

"Does Master want to have some tea while looking to his post?", rasped Kreacher out and already worked on the counter.

On the table were numerous letter, mostly from witches and wizards all around the country who wanted to thank him.

For what, he wasn't sure. He had done his deed, done what everyone should have done in his position.

With a sour expression, he went through the papers and sorted out the one from people he knew and cared for.

Seamus Finnigan was asking him to come to a football match next month with him, Dean Thomas and Denis Creevey. His heart sunk low. He hadn't seen Denis since the burial of his brother. It had been a beautiful one. Muggles and wizards together. Collins family had been welcoming although their loss and grief. When over fifty children and teenagers with funny looking clothes came to the funeral and Hermione and him had worked on a picture slideshow with the ones their beloved son had made, Collins parents were sobbing with honest thanks.

Harry was determined to go with them to the match.

There was a letter from Pavarti Patil as well, asking him if he would like to come with her and visit Lavander, who had been still in St. Mungo's due to Greybacks bit. Without thinking about, he answered "yes, of course, when would you like to meet?" and sent the letter away.

Andromeda asked him if he would like to have Teddy for the weekend, which he would definitely want to. As Teddy's godfather, he tried to spend as much time with the little boy as he could.

And then there was one from Narcissa Malfoy:

" _Mister Potter,_  
_I would like to thank you from face to face, but due to my house arrest, I believe it won't be possible for a very long time. This may sound like complaining, but it is not._  
_You have done so much for my son and me, and I will be forever grateful. If you are in need of anything, Mister Potter, please do not hesitate to write me. I'll do whatever I can to fulfill your request._  
_I know this will be certainly disturbing your peace after the war, as much pease as anyone of us can have, but I must ask you to help me again._  
_My son, Draco will be going back to Hogwarts, and he'll be in great danger. You may think that now since the Dark Lord is gone and destroyed, we needn't fear anything, but not the reality..."_

Basically, she asked him to watch over her son, keep him safe and alive until he finished his studies at Hogwarts. Harry wasn't sure what to think or even feel about it. He and Malfoy had never been anything than enemies. Now, after defeating Voldemort, it seemed childish to continue this rivalry.

And as she had known about this; a short-eared owl was clicking against the window.

When Harry opened it, she hopped into the kitchen and held out her leg patiently. Carefully he got the letter and patted her on the head, her beak gently nibbling on his finger.

It was from Hogwarts, Headmistress McGonagall,

" _Dearest Mister Potter,_  
_I would love to meet you shortly after you read the message. The floo-connection to the Head office in Hogwarts will always be open for you._  
_Sincerely, Minerva McGonagall_."

With a short glance at his clock that it was far too late to go Hogwarts, bit if it was urgent, he decided he should go immediately.

With the small parchment, he stepped into his fireplace and shouted, while green flames were licking on his frame, "Hogwarts, Headmistress Office."

The room was only illuminated by silver-blue light, but he realized that hardly anything had changed in the place since he had been there the last time. The table looked precisely the same as when it had been with Snape as Headmaster. Even the potion lab behind the dark curtain was still there. Only the smell had changed. The heavy, sweet scent of Professor McGonagall's Indian incense sticks filled the air and let him feel welcome. Nag Champa, she had told him once, when he had been at her office after another incident with Umbridge and another time of biscuits and tea.

The portraits were snoring in their frames. Only one was awake and watching him.

"Professor.", Harry mumbled and acknowledged Dumbledores presence.

"Harry, my boy.", The old wizard said, waving a hand lightly. His hands were free of any injuries. The artist had obviously not painted the curse-withered hand.

"How are you?"

Harry leaned a bit back, watching him warily, "Alive, Sir."

He couldn't hold back the sting in his voice. He had always adored the man, had looked up to him and somehow thought about him of a father figure. But after the war, a lot had changed.

Albus Dumbledore had played him, had led him like a puppet. The strings were too tight and impossible to cut through. He could have told Harry what he had to do in the end, but he hadn't. The man had decided to leave him ignorant. That hurt the most.

Harry felt betrayed.

"Really?", Dumbledore asked, an eyebrow raised and the dark haired boy shrugged his shoulders.

"You could have told me.", he simply retorted, "I would let him kill me."

The smile on Dumbledores face faltered, and quietly he admitted, "You're right. I should have, but know it's too late."  
Harry crossed his arms in front of his chest, "Too right."

"Mister Potter?", McGonagall's voice was high and utterly shocked.

"Yes, Professor.", Harry turned around, one last view to Dumbledore who frowned deeply, "I got your letter and thought it must be urgent. I'm sorry if I disturbed you."

She was standing in a pattern nightgown before him, her silver-brown hair mussed and without any glasses.

"I can come back tomorrow, I'm sorry.", he wanted to turn around and leave, but she held him back.

"No, no, come and sit down, now that you are here.", she pointed on the chair, "You were right, it is important."

Slowly he sat down and tried not to look at her improper form.

With a clap of her hand, a house elve appeared and brought them some sandwiches and tea. The elve watched him through big yellowish colored eyes and hopped exited up and down, "Mister Harry Potter, Sir."

"Uh- hello.", Harry said and looked questioning at the professor, who sighed, "Flips, please?"

The elve, Flips, grabbed her long ears and squeezed them around her eyes, beaming at them and vanished with a loud PLOPP.

"Please excuse them. The elves are very grateful for what you and your friends have done in the past.", his old house teacher commented on the slightly strange behavior and clapped her hands together, "I needed to speak to you because of some students."

"Who?"

"Among others, Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, Gregory Goyle and Christy McClear," she declared, and Harry immediately tensed. That had been the names of children from Death Eater and who had received the Dark Mark themselves. Before he could say anything, she continued to elucidate, "Mister Malfoy came to us a few days ago. Straight out of Azkaban."

"But.", Harry interrupted her, "But I thought he was under house arrest after the trials until he could come to Hogwarts for fulfilling his sentence."

"That was exactly what we thought as well, Mister Potter.", the angry undertone in her voice grew, "Apparently they put him and the others back to Azkaban after the Wizengamot had spoken and the others are still there."

She had to keep herself together, visible straightened her back, "Mister Malfoys health had been atrocious. Poppy had quite a hard time to get him out of danger. If he had been longer in that cell, he would have died there, and I fear for Mister Nott and Mister Goyle the same. Their fathers had been a part of Voldemorts inner circle, like Mister Malfoy and not everyone can see the difference between the true followers of Voldemort and scared children, who had just done what their families wanted them to do. I already talked to the Wizengamot, but they wouldn't listen to me. They do not want to end the prejudice and hate."

She looked tired, the exhaustion was written on her face.

"I fear for their lives, Harry."

He believed her. Neville had told him about his new roommate, about Malfoy and how bad he looked. It had been quite a surprise when Neville flooed to Harry a few days ago and had sacked on the outrageous green couch. Then he had torn on his dark blond hair and sighed for hours. Sighed because his roommate was Draco Malfoy. Sighed because the room was small and he hadn't had any privacy since then. Sighed and torn his hair because Malfoy was broken beyond repair. Neville had been full of pity for the boy who had bullied them for so long and Harry couldn't understand why. Knowing that Malfoy had been in Azkaban for the last month, starving, beaten and helpless, he understood Neville's expression more.

"I do understand, Professor, but how can I help you with that?"

"I'm sorry for taking advantage of you again, Harry.", she apologized with a conflicted expression on her face, "But I wanted to ask you to use your name to help me."

"I'm not sure how to do that. Even Mrs. Malfoy seemed to think I could save her son."

"Mrs. Malfoy?", Professor McGonagall raised a questioning eyebrow.

Harry nodded, the parchment still in his trouser pocket, "Yeah, she wrote me a letter, asking me to help Malfoy in Hogwarts."

"Will you do it?"

"Doesn't Neville already does it?"

Her mouth twitched dangerously like a smirk, "I do believe, that Mister Longbottom's reasons for helping Mister Malfoy are quite different than yours."

"What do you mean?"

"Only time will show us, what I meant.", she said with a secretive smile.

 

So that had led him to the dark door in the Ministry. Harry wished he could have talked with Hermione before that or her being by his side. She would have found the right words when he and his temper could blow the whole situation.

But he thought about his old house teacher, her worried face when she had talked about Malfoy after he had agreed to help.

About Neville, who had looked devastated when he had told Harry about Malfoy, obviously hiding something about the blond Slytherin.

He breathed deep in and knocked on the door. After a moment it opened, and a dark, tall man grinned at him, the red robe looked excellent on him.

"Harry Potter.", a vibrating bass tone filled the air, when he spoke, "How are you, boy?"

Harry wished the people around him would stop to call him "boy."

He was nearly 18 years old. He had fought a war. But instead of telling him that, he took the large hand, "Hello Kingsley. Sorry to disturb you, but I need your help."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Nag Champa](https://www.amazon.de/dp/B01N54BZK1/ref=asc_df_B01N54BZK153380928/?tag=googshopde-21&creative=22410&creativeASIN=B01N54BZK1&linkCode=df0&hvadid=256376562691&hvpos=1o1&hvnetw=g&hvrand=4012785815956752148&hvpone=&hvptwo=&hvqmt=&hvdev=c&hvdvcmdl=&hvlocint=&hvlocphy=9068102&hvtargid=pla-348670804531&th=1&psc=1)
> 
>  
> 
> I love these. This is the smell of my childhood, my mother had them always in our house and for me, this smells like home and security.  
> I always thought that Minnie McGonagall is like a mother to all the children in Hogwarts, so I thought...give her the smell of a mother ;)


	8. Some can't seek forgivness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song for the chapter is  
> [Isaac Gracie - silhouttes of you](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M-DOZ4XsMq0&list=RDGMEM6ijAnFTG9nX1G-kbWBUCJAVMskyYyiMt3vU&index=27)

Draco was sitting on his unmade bed, the sheets rumpled and one of the pillows on the floor, while reading one of the big, dusty books from the library.

It was the only thing he really enjoyed since being back from prison.

Azkaban had drained him, had left him empty and shaken. Sometimes his skin felt like thousands of ants were crawling over it or like one of the old oil paintings in the halls of Malfoy Manor. One of the unkempt. The paint cracked like the desert in Colorado and scaly, revealing the wood under the canvases.

Mostly, however, he felt nothing but terror. Every single night he awoke with a racing heart, dry mouth and the urge to run. Still the image of Potter letting go of his hand in the Fiendfyre, the feeling of being sliced open by the hasty and thoughtless cast of Sectrumsepra or _him_.

His bare feet making loud noises on the stone floor in his childhood home, his hissed orders and the smell of fear and pure horror in the air. How he had summoned him. Sometimes Draco even dreamed of raising his wand at Dumbledore and being able to kill the old man.

Holding a book in his hands, the letters dancing in front of his tired eyes, was the only way of shutting his brain up. Only then he calmed down enough to relax, to let his shoulders fall and feeling that neither the dark Lord nor Azkaban and it's cruelty had killed him.

Madam Prince hadn't been thrilled about him wanting to get some of the books, but after a heated argument with the Headmistress she had allowed him one book a week. He always took the largest, the one he wouldn't finish before he was allowed to get another one.

Furthermore, nearly no one was pleased with him being there. The other helpers bumped into him whenever they had the opportunity. Hissing nasty comments behind his back, loud enough for him to hear or also sending stinging-hexes or other curses down his way.

Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey always asked him, if everything was alright. If the people were kind to him and he always nodded, sent an encouraging smile, "Of course."

He deserved it.

Only Neville dared to speak to him. Although it was mostly a soliloquy. Draco rarely answered him, trying so hard to keep by himself.

Since the night he had talked with the Gryffindor about his problems with dreamless potions, Neville was anxious to help him.

Whenever Draco didn't work at the hospital wing, Neville dragged him along to the greenhouses, while chattering about his grandmother, his parents, about Luna Lovegood and all his other friends.

"I'd like to be a herbologist after Hogwarts.", Neville had said after casting some of the helpers a foul look when they tried to hex Dracos hair off, "What would you like to do?"

Draco tried to ignore the other boy. His hands deep in the muddy earth and concentrating on the wards around him.

"Malfoy?"

He had sighed, not wanting to answer, because he didn't know. Draco had always assumed he would take over after his father, working in the Ministry, being a man of politics.

But know? After everything, no one in the Ministry would hire him, let alone work with him in any other way. What would he like to do?

"It doesn't matter.", he whispered and let some stones flew through the air, working on repairing the left wall of the greenhouse four, sweat was running down his face and between his shoulder blades.

"What do you mean?", the other had stopped mid-repairing spell and frowned deeply at the blonde.

"Nothing."

Neville had turned completely to him, "No, tell me."

He had put his hands on his hip like his mother had done so many times.

"Let it go, Longbottom."

"Come on, Malfoy. You're not scared that I'll take a shit about your career wish?!"

Draco rolled his eyes, raging heat boiling in his chest, "As if you would. You're practically a Hufflepuff, wonder boy."

A loud snort escaped Neville's mouth, and he waved his wand again to continue to work, "Merlin, you are complicated, Malfoy. Just tell me what you want to do."

"I don't know.", Draco snapped at him, red blotches on his normally pale cheeks and letting go of his work, "I don't bloody know. And it DOESN'T FUCKING MATTER."

"WHY NOT?"

"BECAUSE NO ONE IN THEIR RIGHT MIND WOULD HIRE ME ANYWAY!"

Draco's whole body had trembled with anger, and somewhere near them, a window cracked dangerously loud. He twitched after the noise and took a deep breath, visible putting him back together. His nostrils flared, and he had closed his eyes. The light of the sun projected an orange color behind his eyelids, which looked nice and went well with his temper. He tried to concentrate only on the warm, sticky air in the greenhouse, the sun on his arms. This always seemed to help nowadays, as if his body had missed this particular part of being free, that it always calmed him down.

After a while, his heart slowed down again and he stated in a reserved voice, "No one will hire a Death Eater."

"But the government has acquitted you.", Neville had retorted, spelling the window back together as if nothing had happened.

"The Dark Mark is enough for them.", Draco pointed out and turned away from the other, "I wouldn't hire me."

After that, the blond refused to speak again until he went back to their room, missing dinner on purpose again.

So when the door to their room opened, Draco's eyes went up, startled. Neville never came back before midnight, never before

Draco was already asleep and captured in one of his nightmares.

And, indeed, it wasn't Neville on the door, but a blonde girl he knew far too good.

"You are not Neville.", she declared, and for a short second, he wanted to sneer at her.

Instead, he merely responded, "Obviously."

Without asking, Luna Lovegood entered the room and closed the door silently. Like she wasn't afraid of him or being alone with the Death Eater.

"How are you, Draco?", She asked while taking a seat on Neville's bed, crossing her legs under her. He could see that she didn't wear any shoes and the soles of her feet were nearly black with dirt. She wriggled her toes when she felt his eyes on them and sent him a small smile, "I've lost my shoes too many times, so it's odd to wear them now."

"Okay.", he said and went back to his book, but Luna wouldn't have it.

"You didn't answer my question."

Draco tensed. He wasn't sure what to think about her being in this room, about her wanting to talk to him. Unmistakably wanting to know how he was, so he simply shrugged his shoulder nonchalant.

"I get it.", Her dreamy voice replied to his movements, "It's the same for me most of the time. Being imprisoned does funny things with your head, even when you're not there anymore."

He swallowed, a loud click in the back of his throat.

They sat silent for a long time, Draco trying to read his book and Luna watching him with big eyes. The sun went down, and the room got darker with every passing minute. When he looked up, to look at the old clock next to their beds, he saw that

Luna had grabbed her hair and started to play with them, braid them into a complex plait, "How is your mother?"  
Draco jerked, the book slipped from his lap onto the floor with a harsh bang, "I think she is fine."

"Why do you think that?", Luna sent him a confused look, her soft body stilled.

"We are not allowed to be in contact for some time.", he mumbled and grabbed after the book.

At that moment the door opened a second time that evening without knocking, which only could mean that Longbottom came back after work.

The boy stopped his movements when he saw Draco half out his bed, reaching with twitching fingers after the book and Luna sitting on his bed. Spreading mud on the blanket.

"Merlin, what are you doing here?", He laughed and hugged her tightly, buried his nose in her hair and Draco felt out of place.

They looked good together, he thought and looked her up for the first time since she had entered the room.

He was surprised by her appearance. The last time he had seen her, Luna Lovegood had been a starved little girl with too huge blue eyes and green-ish pale skin, but now, she had changed.

Her body wasn't pointy anymore, more soft and round. Feminine curves adorned her frame, and she looked healthy. She looked beautiful.

Her fingers brushed Longbottom's neck gently, and she murmured something into his ear.

The uncomfortable feeling which was spreading in Draco's gut, he tried to ignore.

Jealousy.

Why?

"I was talking to Headmistress McGonagall because of coming back to Hogwarts in September, and I thought it would be nice to say hello to you, and apparently to Draco as well."

Neville's eyebrow jumped, "Draco?"

Before she could answer, Draco went off his bed and reached for the door.

"Are you going because of me?", Luna questioned sadly, finally letting go of Longbottom, "Please don't go, Draco. It would be nice to continue to talk."

"I - uh -," he studdered and wrung his hands, "I need to go to Madam Pomfrey."

Without waiting for another word, he stumbled out of the door and hurried down the hall, always watching out of other people.

He didn't fancy to walk in someone and maybe being hexed to blood again.

Draco wandered without thinking through Hogwarts, past doors, up and down stairs, until he had forgotten time and space.

When his feet stopped in front of a dark green door in the dungeons, he blinked bewildered.

Severus Snape's office.

Hesitantly, he reached out his arm, his fingers trembled.

Fuck, why were they always trembling?

 _Because you don't eat properly_ , the small voice in his head answered immediately. _Because you are malnourished and your body is missing sleep_.

"Shut up.", he murmured furiously into nothing.

The door opened with a klick and moderately Draco stepped inside.

The room was nearly wholly dark; only a few blue flickering candles illuminated the walls. Everything looked the same as the last time Draco had been in the place, over a year ago.

There were papers on the grand table in the corner. Books about potions and the dark art, a few journals, and letters.

Next to the table was the fireplace, two big armchairs were framing it.

Dusty bookshelves and dried out fethers were all around the place.

There was only one frame on the wall, which seemed to be empty. No other pictures or personal items.

Draco had known the potion master his whole life. A friend of his parents, his tutor, house teacher and confidant. But had he really known him? After what Potter had revealed about Snape and his deeds in the war, Draco doubted it.

He sighed and wanted to go back to his room, leaving this room behind him, when he heard an all too familiar drawl, "Draco, what are you doing here?"

He spun around just in time to see Severus Snape turning his body in the frame.

For a moment he snorted, "Clever, Uncle Severus."

Draco stepped closer and sat down on one of the armrests of the chairs, watching the potion master and former Headmaster of Hogwarts, "Black cloak, black hair and black background, the perfect hiding spot."

The painting sneered at him, but it didn't reach his black eyes, "And that comes from you, young Malfoy. Hiding in the old office of a dead man."

Draco jerked slightly but never left his eyes, "Well, you certainly know how exhausting the new fame after the war is."

Snape crossed his arms in front of his chest and shook his head disapprovingly, "Potter that fool made my remaining as a painting to a living hell."

"Maybe that's the revenge for being a bully," Draco bragged and copied Snape's posture, his arms on his chest.

"Maybe.", the man answered and watched him warily, "How are you?"

Draco looked away, biting his lips hard so he wouldn't tell him about how he was, "Did you had other visitors? Is this why you hid that hilariously?"

"I like the silence.", The man snapped back, "It helps to find answers. You haven't answered my question."

"And you're not the first one to say that to me today.", Draco muttered, ruffling a hand through his hair, "I'm fine."

"Clearly.", Snape droned, an eyebrow raised.

"Why asking if you know the answer better than me?", Draco spat and pushed away from the chair, moving to the entrance.

"Draco! Wait, boy!"

Without listening, he slammed the door and sprinted down the corridor. He had known that there was a portrait of his former teacher, but Draco hadn't thought that talking to the man he had worshiped would be like that. Everything had changed in the war, even his relationship with Snape.

After being unable to kill Dumbledore and the escape out of Hogwarts after Snape did the deed, Draco withdrew from everyone. He never went out of his room anymore, when he couldn't help it. Always listening for Bellatrix's crazy laughter or the heavy footsteps of Greyback, who liked to scratch on his door the days before full moon.

"You would be such a nice little bitch.", The werewolf had panted into his ear; once when he had caught Draco after a meeting. Filling his scents with foul breath which made his stomach grumble with nausea. The man had pressed him against the stonewall, rubbed against his thin frame and growled dangerously when the blond tried to clutch his wand.

"The Malfoy heir. It would be so perfect."

Snape had stepped between them, sneered at the man, the wand was drawn and digging into the sensitive skin in his neck, "I wouldn't try that, half-blood."

Greyback had let him go that night, but sent him a hungry glance, "Be careful, boy. I like them young."

After that Draco had thrown more wards around his rooms than before, always scared for his mother and him.

 

Draco almost reached the room, when he heard someone shouting behind him.

Timothy, another one who had lost someone in the war and wanted Draco in Azkaban, where he belonged.

"Malfoy.", Yowled the guy and shot a stinging-hex at him. He stumbled, pain shot through his spine, and his left leg started to twitching.

"Shit.", Draco hissed and tried to continue to walk; he had forgotten his wand in the room. Only a few feet, he could already see the door, but Timothy came closer with every step the blond took.

"Stay still.", He slurred, grabbing Draco's hair and hurled him back. The loud shout echoed from the stone walls before he could keep himself silent.

"Shut it." grunted the other and yanked harder, while throwing another hex at him.

I deserved it, Draco thought, when he could feel his rips bruising, and he smelled the blood, tasted it.

I deserve it. Deserve it.

Timothy's hot breath ghosted over his ear, when he whispered, "You should have died in Azkaban."

Right before the door of his room opened, he kicked Draco in the back and vanished.

He sacked onto his knee, panting hard, "I know. I'm sorry I didn't."

"Malfoy!", he heard Longbottom shout and running toward him, but he waved his hand dismissively.

Slowly, with as few movements as possible, he got up, shook Longbottoms worried hands off.

"Merlin.", the Gryffindor exhaled when he saw Draco's bloody face, "I get Madam Pomfrey."

"NO!", Draco grabbed his sleeve and shook his head violently, "Stop that. It's fine."

I deserve it.

"Jezz, Malfoy, you need a healer."

"I had worse, just need a wand."

I deserve it.

"But Malfoy..", he started again, but Draco interrupted him, "NO! No word to anyone. I can handle it alone."

With shake steps, Draco went to their room, one hand on the wall just in case and promptly grabbed his wand when he sat on the bed.

Longbottom had followed him, still, a frown on his face and the blond hair disheveled.

Maybe he and Lovegood had had a good time. Another cruel bolt of jealousy went through him, and Draco shook his head, while he cast nonverbal healing charms on himself.

He felt that the small cut on his chin closed and he sighed with relief when the pain faded nearly into nothing, but only an inadequate pounding deep in his bones.

"How often did that happened before, Malfoy?"

"Leave it, Longbottom.", he mumbled, exhausting waving over him and he started to take off his shoes.

"We need to do something against it."

Draco stilled in his movement, unbuttoning his shirt and peering at him, "No, we don't have to. Just leave it alone."

Longbottom looked outraged, his thick brows knitted together and the full lips pressed into a thin line. A vein on his neck was pounding like mad.

Why did he care?

Instead of adding something, Draco went into the bathroom and closed the door firmly behind him. His clothes shattered on the floor; he went to the shower, but not without glancing into the mirror on the wall.

His rips and collarbone poked out of his skin and with the white skin, only colored with black, purple, blue-green and yellow-ish bruises he looked like a revenant. So different from Lovegoods healthy body.

"Fuck.", He muttered and went under the hot spray of the shower. He stayed there longer than he had in months. Rubbing his body until his muscles were protesting and the water ran cold.

When he came back into the sleeping room, the lights were already dimmed, and Longbottom remained silent in his bed, although he was facing Draco and watched him possessively.

After it was completely dark in the room and Draco had tucked himself under the sheets, Longbottom began to speak again,

"Why haven't you told me about that?"

Draco swallowed hard, "About what?"

"It wasn't the first time you were attacked since you are back, surely."

"It doesn't matter.", Draco whispered, grabbing the white sheets hard until one of his knuckles cracked dangerously.

He heard Longbottom groaning loudly, "But it does, why don't you understand?"

"Because I deserve it."

It was silent for a long time, and Draco closed his eyes. Only Longbottoms harsh breathing filled the air.

"No, you don't.", He replied, "You didn't kill anyone, you even helped Hermione, Harry, and Ron. And Luna as well. She told me."

Draco squeezed his eyes shut, hard and tried to lose track of his memories, but the pictures of the blonde girls in the dungeons of his home were filling his mind anyway.

"I couldn't help her.", His voice was breaking. Why was he always such a weakling? 

"You did enough, Malfoy, enough to help her and not to get in danger yourself."

"Why do you care?", Draco voiced, not even wanting to open his eyes, to adjust to the darkness.

He would never want to; since Azkaban.

"I don't know.", Longbottom muttered slightly irritated, "I just don't want to see you hurt."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact about my life: While you read that, I'll probably blow-dry the carpet in my working office, because we had a pipe break and the trainee, who had been there at that day hasn't done about the standing water in the foyer. The problem about is that when I came into the office 3 days later the whole place smelled of mold. Instead of doing something about it, she just shrugged her shoulders and said something like "I didn't know."  
> Before you think: "Poor girl, when they are so young and innocent, they don't know any better.", The girl is nearly 30 =D She drives me crazy and into quitting.  
> I put almost a ton of chemicals on the carpet, hoping it will be better today. We'll see.


	9. He keeps him save

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a week and weekend. I'm so glad it is over. Being an adult is no fun anymore XD  
> I hope this chapter is ok, it's more like a temporary thing, before I have the time and the motivation to write more.  
> I'm going to London on Wednesday for a few days, so I won't be able to write a lot this week, again and I'm sorry.
> 
> Next chapter will also be from Nevilles POV and then everything continues normally =)

Neville waited until Malfoys breathed even and got up. As silent as possible, he got his clothes and went out of the room.

He was so angry, so utterly mad that these things happened while he wanted to keep the blond boy safe. While he had been on watch.

He watched Malfoy. All day, all night. He wanted him to be secure again, to feel like he belonged into Hogwarts. Neville knew that he felt out of place all the time. He'd seen the stressed eyes, erratically looking around and searching for any kind of danger. How his shoulders twitched when people walked beside him, jerking away from every touch.

Neville was so tired of this way of living. Hadn't they all lived in fear for over a year? Hadn't they all lived through a war? Why couldn't the people stop that?

His footstep echoed in the long hall, and his blood rushed through his body. When he got to the Great Hall, most of the helpers were still awake like he had thought. They were talking, laughing and playing card games on the tables against the wall. Warm lights flickered in the room, and from somewhere he could hear some music.

"Oi, Neville.", One of them called. Timothy, he remembered. The boy's face was crimson red, and he held a bottle with firewhiskey in his hand.

"You wanna play a game with us?"

Neville ignored him and stalked up the few steps to the dais, where usually the teacher's table was. He took a deep breath before he turned around to look at the people.

There were some older witches and wizards, long out of school with crow's feet around the eyes. Their knowledge essential to reconstruct the castle. Some were young. Their ability and stamina equal important. With some of them, he had sat in the classes, listened to Snape annoyed brawls or watched Flitwicks excitement when the choir had sung in front of the whole school. Some of them had fought in the war, stood beside him, arms raised when the Death Eaters came.

There was Ernie, a book in his lap and smiling to him. Cho Chang, Charlie Weasley and even the Greengrass sisters. The had come only two days after the battle and asked what they could do to help.

There was Hannah Abbott, who watched him through big, green eyes and blushed when he looked back at her.

His heart was nearly exploding with anxiety, but he still opened his mouth to speak, "I've got a question to all of you."

Even thou Neville hadn't raised his voice; it drowned through the hall.

Almost at once it was dead silent, all eyes were on him, and for a short moment, he thought he would lose his nerve. They all looked at him expectantly, eager to hear what he would say next.

"Why did we fight against Voldemort?"

There went a harsh whisper through the hall. Some of then jerked as he had slapped them.

No one answered him, and Neville's anger came back.

"WHY DID WE FIGHT AGAINST VOLDEMORT?"

"Because we would be free.", someone called back.

A woman stood up, her face in a determined mask, "So that my children live in peace."

"My mom is a Muggle. I couldn't let them hurt her."

"It was the right thing to do."

"Because giving up was not an option.", Charlie Weasley said, grinning at Neville.

And then Astoria Greengrass straightened her back, her long brown hair falling in waves over her shoulder and her delicate china-doll face earnest, "We fought so that prejudice would stop."

"Then why do some of you continue with it?", Neville has crossed his arms in front of his chest, "Why do you hurt Malfoy, curse him, hex him and not let him be? Isn't it enough?"

Without saying another word, he jumped down the few steps and walked out of the Great Hall back to his room and were Malfoy was in bed. A stern mask on his face.

 

That night, Malfoy woke up four times, gasping. He was shivering like mad. His whole body reeked of cold sweat. Neville always made sure that the blond recognised immediately where he was and that he was safe. That no one would hurt him. Not here, in their room. Not ever, if Neville could control it. How could that have happened? Hadn't they all learn from the Carrows, from Voldemort and the war itself?

After the third time, he had shaken the blond awake, shushing him until his teeth stopped to clatter against each other, Neville didn't bother to go back to sleep. He popped up against the wall, a letter of Harry in his lap he tried to answer. Once in a while, his eyes went to Malfoy.

The blond had a beautiful face, now that the hurtful sneer was missing. The eyes were framed with pale long, so unbelievable long lashes. His lips had the shape of a heart, full and pale pink. Neville just wanted to make them look more...alive. How would they feel? Would they be as soft as they looked? He thought and blushed furiously.

Draco's hand curled around the sheets, and he huffed quietly in his sleep, pouting and then frowning.

He looked adorable and Neville, unable to escape his thoughts, wanted to touch him so badly it nearly hurt.

Instead of that, he went back to the parchment and started to reply,

" _Dear Harry, thanks for writing, mate. I miss you guys as well, but Hogwarts hasn't enough helper, and I really like to work here, ya' know?_  
_But I'll come by in a few days, promise. Maybe we could meet with Luna, go to one of those ciname, you told us about. I would like to see a whole story in pictures._  
_I like the idea to celebrate our birthdays together. Do you want to party in Grimmauld place or go the Burrow? Maybe, if you want to, I could ask Gran, and we go to Longbottom Manson?!_  
_I saw Luna today, and it was a pleasant surprise. Did you know that Mrs Weasley offered to help her with her dad so that she could finish her education at Hogwarts? That was kind of her, considering she lost Fred._  
_Did you already hear from Hermione and Ron?_  
_I hope they are back for your/mine/our birthday._  
_Having Malfoy as a roommate isn't as bad as expected. He changed, Harry. You can't imagine how...fragile he is._  
_Maybe I shouldn't tell you about it, keep his secrets and not rile him up, you know? But if someone understands, then it's probably you. He has nightmares, a lot. This night he woke up three times already and I'm quite sure it wasn't the last time. Malfoy barely speaks to anyone. If he's not in our room, hiding and reading, he helps Madam Pomfrey in the hospital wing. He's really good at that. Maybe he should become a healer; if someone will have him. He thinks that no one will hire him, after everything. Sometimes I can get him out of the castle and help me in the greenhouses, can you believe it? He gets all muddy and dirty but never raise an eyebrow. He even has dirt under his nails._  
_His hair got longer, but instead of looking like his father, he looks a bit like a blond Sirius Black, the picture you showed me some time ago. It's totally weird. But they were something like cousins, weren't they?_  
_I know you probably think he doesn't deserve it, but I feel bad for him. He is utterly alone, no one except for the teachers and me talks to him. Some of the other helpers even hex him sometimes. Today one of them beat him up; there was also blood. It was barbaric. I think it has happened multiple times, but Draco refused to tell me about it. In general, he hasn't said anything about it, which is quite odd if you think about it. When Buckbeak hurt him, he wouldn't shut up once._  
_I don't know who to explain it, but I don't like to see him hurt. It's pretty strange what living with someone does to you._  
_Well, I should try to get some sleep._  
_See, you,_  
_Nev."_

He wasn't entirely under the beddings when Malfoy started to move erratically again. A quiet "No - please - no. I'll do everything, please don't hurt her." escaped his mouth and Neville jumped out if his bed to grabbed him by the shoulders.

Malfoys eye flew open, big silver orbs were looking at him, and Neville could feel his hot, unevenly going breath on the cheek.

Instead of pushing Neville away, as normally, Malfoy grabbed his nightshirt and scooted closer.

"Please. Please!", he whispered, his cold finger brushed Neville's neck, and the face was pressed against his chest.

For a moment Neville went tense, too shocked about the small human being in his arms, who had started to sob violently, but then his hands began to move on their own account. They wandered into Malfoys hair, his neck was damp with sweat and hold him close. So close that he could feel Malfoys whole, thin body against him. He should try to feed him more, Neville thought absently, while rubbing his hands over the blonds back and every vertebra.

"Shh - it's going to be alright.", Neville murmured into the hair. It smelled wonderful. Like apples and cinnamon, a bit like Christmas and he could barely hold himself back of sniffing at them.

"I'm sorry.", Malfoy croaked, his hands were wedged in Neville's neck, "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to. I'm sorry."

He was crying loudly; helpless, heartbreaking sounds filled the room

"I know.", he mumbled, "I know, Draco."

Malfoy jerked away, his eyes red, the lips still trembling. The moon lightened up his face, and he looked somehow like a Veela or another mystical creature. His cheekbones were razor sharp, and all Neville wanted to do, was tracing them with his fingertips and try if they would cut him.

"You said my name.", he sounded disbelieving, astonish.

"Yeah.", Neville stammered, "Yeah, I did."

With that Malfoy pressed his face back against Neville's chest, his hands were still on the same spot. It felt hot and cold, and he just wanted...wanted so much.

After a while, the Slytherin went heavier on his arms, and he mumbled, "Can we lie down?"

Surprised about that Neville only nodded and moved without letting go. They went under the sheets, Malfoys face in the crook of his neck, the legs tangled and Neville's heart raced like mad.

"I'm so tired.", The blond whispered into his neck and light goosebumps spread on his arms. Why did he felt this good?

Neville griped him tighter and let his hands wander over Malfoys back, "Then sleep, no one will hurt you here."

"Why are you so nice to me?", Malfoy questioned quietly, his lips or lashes, Neville wasn't sure, brushed his sensitive skin on the neck, "Especially you, Longbottom. After everything I did."

Neville had asked himself when Malfoy would want to know that. He wasn't sure what to what to answer.

Should he say that Headmistress McGonagall honest words had influenced his behaviour? Should he tell him, that living through a war made him think about the world and the people in it? Would it be appropriate to explain to him, that seeing his guards or the other helpers and how they dealt with him, made him choke with disgust? Or that Malfoys face, the big silver eyes and his thin frame had woken some sort of protective instinct. That all Neville wanted to do was hissing and growling at the people how wished to harm Malfoy and keep him safe.

So, instead of answering him, Neville pulled him closer and sighed, "Just go to sleep, Malfoy. Tomorrow will be a long day."

 

When they woke up the next morning, all limbs tangled and somehow heavy, Neville felt secure. He could feel Malfoys heart under his hand, which laid on the blond's chest. He hadn't slept that good for weeks. Malfoys firm body was pressed against his, chest to back and his nose buried in the blond locks. Even after four nightmares and a hot summer night, he smelled delicious; and Neville shuffled closer, rubbing against the slim body next to him like a content cat. His body was moving on its own, the way it always does when he woke up and felt nice.

"It's warm.", He heard Malfoys rough and drowsy voice. The bass of it vibrating in his chest and under Neville's fingertips. He went tense immediately, realising what he was doing and what part of his body exactly was rubbing against Malfoys backside.

"Sorry.", he choked out and tried to remove his body from the other so that he could go out of the bed, but Malfoy grabbed his arm and held him tight.

"Stay, please.", he murmured, already nearly asleep again, "It feels nice."

So Neville stopped struggling and laid still, anxious to not pressing his morning wood against the Malfoy heir.

What am I doing? He asked himself and closed his eyes tiredly.

The next time he opened his eyes, he was alone in the bed but heard the shower running. Lazily he stretched, the sheets had tangled around his feet, and he tried to kick them away. He wasn't wholly sitting when the door to the bathroom opened and a wet dripping Malfoy stepped into the room; only wearing dark black boxer shorts and mismatched socks.

He was terribly thin. The ribs were more prominent than Neville had thought. All over his chest were dark pink scars, which reminded him of the one on Seamus body. Sectrumsempra.

When Malfoy saw, that Neville was awake and watching him, he froze. He definitely hadn't expected the other to be awake. He crossed his arms over his torso like he tried to hide and sluggishly moved to the drawer to get a fresh white shirt and one of the old jeans Professor Sprout had given him after his first day.

"You're awake.", He stated while he pulled the shirt over his head. He sounded like his usual self and not like the scared, broken boy of the night before. Neville wasn't sure if he was glad about that or not, because he would have grabbed him and would have shoved him back into the bed to cuddle him. Thinking of this and how good it could feel to do that, Neville stood up and went to the bathroom, but before he closed the door behind him, he asked Malfoy, "Could you wait for me? We can go to breakfast together after my shower."

The whole time in the shower he argued with himself if he should talk to Malfoy about the night before and their closeness while sleeping. He didn't want to ruin the truce they had made, but at the same time, he was so insecure about himself and the situation. Besides, he was sure that Malfoy wanted to sneak out of the room. Maybe he should have let him go, and they could have ignored this now.

So when he came out of the bathroom and saw Malfoy sitting awkwardly on the edge of his made bed, he was surprised. He had assumed the other would flee out of the room as soon as he had heard the shower running.

He sent Malfoy an encouraging smile and went to his own bed to get the letter for Harry when he saw that Malfoy had made his as well. The sheets were neatly folded and, to his amusement, a grey counterpane laid on top.

"Oh, you made my bed as well."

"Uhh.", Malfoy shuffled nervously with his feet and went up to go to the door, "Well, yeah."

"Thanks.", He followed the other on the heels. Neville noticed the way Malfoy moved, stiffly and with a blanc mask. Outside of their room, he was not only nervous but ready to run.

Together they walked down the hall, their shoulders brushed once in a while, and whenever that happened, a small flutter in his gut made Neville jump. He knew he should know that feeling and he knew that he knew it.

It must be the same as when Ron looked at Hermione or when Ginny had kissed Dean back then. Maybe even the same his parents had felt when they were still themselves.

Instead of going to the Great Hall, Malfoy pointed to the kitchen, "I - do you want to go to the Hall?"

Neville shook his head, "No, let's grab something from the kitchen and head directly to the greenhouses?"

"Thank you.", he bit his lips and tickled the pearl.

 

Before they went to the greenhouse, Neville sent the owl with the letter for Harry.

"Will Lovegood come often?", Was the first thing the blond asked him after they shared a healthy breakfast. His portion nearly wholly vanished and only a half mango on his hand.

"Would you bother you?", automatically Neville's tone went harsh and threatening, and Malfoy flinched away from him.

"No.", he murmured, lowering his eyes, "No, she was nice to me."

Luna had told him how Malfoy and his mother had tried to help her and the other prisoners in Malfoy Manor. Always with a death threat over their head. How Malfoy intercepted Rowle in front of the dungeon so he could not torture the prisoners or how Narcissa slipped them bread and soup with pepper-up potions.

"Yeah, you helped her, too."

Malfoys eyes went wide, and he looked like a deer in the spotlight, "No, I didn't."

"You did.", Neville replied annoyed, "We talked about that yesterday."

"A lot happened yesterday.", He mumbled so quietly that Neville was sure, he shouldn't have heard that. So he ignored it and said instead, "Should we go swimming later?"

"What?", the blond looked at him gobsmacked.

"Swimming, Malfoy.", Neville laughed at his expression, "In the lake."

He blinked a few times and repeated, "In the lake?"

"Yeah."

"But it's lake water."

"Yeah?"

"It's dirty.",Malfoy whined, and suddenly he was the great ponce Neville had known for seven years. The corner of his mouth twitched slightly, and the lips stretched into a gentle smile, causing his nose to wrinkle adorably.

Silent laughter shook Neville's whole body, "Don't be a sissy. It's only water."

And that must have been the wrong thing to say because the small smile on Malfoy's face vanished and his face shut down, his eyes cold at once. Neville missed it immediately.

"I'm not a 'sissy'. You can go alone to the lake.". The blond went up and stepped to the broken bench for fixing it.

"What did I say?"

"Nothing."

Neville jumped up as well and stepped towards him, "I - I don't know why you are like that again. You have to tell me what I did wrong so that I won't do it again."

"Leave it, Longbottom."

The Gryffindor sighed loudly, his hands ruffled through his hair, "Please?!"

"I'll go with you swimming.", he uttered, "But just don't say that word again."

"Wh-?"

"And don't ask."

Neville made a bewildered face and croaked out, "Ok."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UPDATE NOTE 5th August 2018:  
> Hey guys, sorry for not updating the story, but apparently my body is a bitch and I'm in the hospital.  
> I will update the story ASAP and it will not be abandoned, but I need a bit more time to recover.  
> Love, Finn


	10. He recognise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG hello GUYS!  
> No, I haven't abandoned this fic and no, I'm not dead.  
> Sorry for letting you waiting this long. Idk if you read the notes in the last chapter, but my body was really unreasonable and I was in the hospital for a few weeks.  
> I'm back home and as healthy as I ever get, so I thought...go back to writing and do something nice. I'm finally able to concentrate much better than a few weeks ago.
> 
> I hope you are all fine and please don't be gross with me ^^  
> I try to update 2 chapters a week and please don't hesitate to remind me to do so.
> 
> Lots of love
> 
> Chapters song:  
> [Dermot Kennedy- An Evening I Will Not Forget / Furthest Thing](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JS8mYXlN0B4&list=RDJS8mYXlN0B4&start_radio=1)

After they worked for hours a little house elve, Neville recognised as Winky, brought them some lunch.

When Neville smelled the food, something with chicken and coconut, and his stomach rumbled loudly.

"The Sirs see.", Winky scolded, "You're hungry!"

She sent Malfoy an angry glance, "Mister Malfoy, Sir, has to eat more."

Malfoy took a few steps back, making himself as small as possible, obviously uncomfortable with her addressing his unhealthy eating habits.

"Thank you, Winky.", Neville said firmly and took the two plates from her small hands, "We don't need your help here anymore."

The elve looked at them with disappointed eyes but vanished with a loud PLOPP.

Neville sat down at the sun-warmed grass and wolfed some curry down, nodding towards the other plate.

"You should eat at least a little bit.", He said and frowned at Malfoy, who looked like he wanted to vanish entirely. His cheeks had paled a bit more, and he had crossed his arms.

"Come on, Malfoy.", Neville smiled at him, and the blond slowly sat down next to him and took the plate in his hands.

"It's just...", he said and sniffed at the curry, "Since Azkaban, my stomach can't hold spicy food that well anymore."

He tried to avoid Nevilles eyes while saying that and poked with the fork in his food.

"Oh.", Neville quietly said, remembering the thin frame and the dark shadows under Malfoys eyes the day he had come back to Hogwarts. The way his bones showed up under his grey skin and how shocked Madam Pomfrey and the Headmistress had looked.

"Okay, then just a bit of rice and we go to the kitchen later?", Neville asked and watched Malfoy under his eyelashes while the other teen slowly began to chew on the meal.

When Neville finished and he was satisfied with the among of food had vanished from Malfoys plate, he stood up abruptly, holding out his hand for Malfoy, "Wanna go now?"

"Swimming?"

"Yeah."

Hesitatingly Malfoy took his hand and let himself hurled up by the broader boy, "I don't have any swimming trunks."

Neville smirked and started to walk down the dry path to the lake. The grass was entirely withered, and every step made loud noises. The sun shone unceasingly for days, and the air stood still. It was so hot that even breathing made them sweat. The fresh shirt Neville had taken that morning was thoroughly wet. Everyone and everything was in need of a rainstorm.

At the lake, Neville hurled his shirt over his head and said, "Me neither."

His curls stuck on his sweaty forehead, and he rubbed a hand over it, so it would stick out and let some air through it.

They could see a few tentacles of the squid, splashing on the water surface and welcoming them.

"But, what will you wearing then?", Malfoy stressed and hugged himself tighter. He was still fully dressed, a few small pearls of sweat on his upper lip and run down his neck to his collarbones. The Gryffindor grabbed his fly, and with one fast motion, he lost his trousers and boxer shorts in one go.

"Nothing!", He laughed and ran into the water. The surface was surprisingly warm and the sand under his long toes slick.

"You can't wear nothing!"

"As you can see, I can.", Neville snorted and waded deeper, "And come on, Malfoy. The water is perfect."

He turned around to watch him, see if he would walk away or came into the water. For a short moment, Malfoy seemed to consider walking away, his eyes flickered to the castle, but then he pulled over his shirt in slow motions.

Neville's breath caught in his lungs, and a whimpering sound escaped his half-open lips.

Malfoy was anything but remarkably handsome, still undernourished and so pointy that Neville feared he could cut himself on the blond even from a distance.

But...

But to him, Malfoy was beautiful. Not handsome, but incredibly beautiful. The pale skin shimmered. The reflecting sunlight from the water was dancing over his body.

When exactly did that happen?, Neville thought. When had he started to notice Malfoy in any other way than he had notices Dean's long, muscular limbs or Seamus' rough voice, or Ron's freckles in his shoulder blades, or even Harry's warm, steady laugh?

Neville notices. He always had. He notices the beautiful and unique things about the people around him, always free to do so, mostly because of no one really ever paid him attention. Except for Luna.

But when he had noticed all these things about his friends and the other students in Hogwarts, his heart never jumped like that. His body never wanted to move on his own to wrap around the other person.

With Malfoy, he wanted to do so much more than just wrap his arms around him.

He shook his head, trying to banish his thoughts and ...feelings.

Malfoy stepped hastily into the lake, one hand hovering over his crotch and the other up in the air for some balance. His nose scrunched and he made a disgusted sound after he stepped on something slimy, and Neville could see the faint raising of the blond hair on his body. Goosebumps all over him.

After he stood directly beside Neville, Malfoy let go of his prick and blew his nostrils, "And now?"

He looked like he wished he wasn't at this place.

"Just enjoy yourself, for once in a while, Malfoy.", Neville huffed and let himself go, floating in the cool lake water, listening to the birds and Malfoys uneven breath, the splashing of water and even some laughing in the distance. It was remarkable that happiness filled that place all over again, after everything that happened prior that year.

A hand brushed his ankle, and Neville shuddered, jerking away.

"Sorry.", he heard Malfoys whispering reply; the voice was much nearer than he had expected.

"It's fine.", he answered and turned his head to Malfoy, not caring for the flush of water which filled his ear and swept over his face, "You're alright?"

"Will I ever be?", Malfoy responded and looked straight back to Neville. His eyes sparkled, and all Neville could think of was brushing his lips over Malfoys.

"You will.", He whispered back, turned his head towards the deep blue sky before he could follow his feelings and kiss Malfoy, but his hand found Malfoys. Squeezing it lightly and didn't let go.

 

Later Neville started to work on the demolished moonlight trees. It wasn't unusual except that they were quite rare in Europe and therefore valuable. The typical midnight blue bark dissolved from the stock and it had almost lost every single silver blossom.

For saving the tree, he had to concentrate a lot on a particular spell and couldn't afford to think about anything else.

The two boys had lingered in the water for a long time until Malfoy had problems to stay over the water. All his energy had left, and his chest expanded rapidly.

Neville sent him back to the castle to help Madam Pomfrey in the Hospital wing. Leaving Neville alone to brood.

He couldn't really understand how that had happened. Neville had known that his protective instincts went overboard with Malfoy by his side and of course, he had recognised his strange behaviour towards the Slytherin. But it hadn't accorded him, that maybe, maybe he wanted to keep Malfoy safe for an entirely different reason than vanishing the after-war rivalry. That it might or might be not the same reason why Ron had clutched Hermione's smaller hand in his in the battle or why his parents were both insane now.

"I'm not in love with him.", he muttered quietly, only for the broken tree and some fireflies to hear, "Am I?"

" _You'll find what you search soon_.", Professor McGonagall had said to him. Had she known? Had she sensed that Malfoy was the cause why he couldn't feel anything for Hannah?

It couldn't be, right?

"I mean, I'm not even gay.", he said out louder this time, his wand clutched tightly in his hand and pointing at the tree.

He was not. He couldn't be.

He was the last Longbottom and what would his grandmother think about it?

He had never fancied another boy anyway. Of course, he had noticed the changes in his dormmates, hadn't he? And his eyes had lingered on Michael Corner and Blaise Zabini, but it always had been in jealousy. He was sure about it.

But it wasn't. And Neville knew it. No "normal" boy would notice all these things he did about Malfoy with a shuddering breath and rumbling heart.

Neville lowered his wand and sat down on the ground, knowing he couldn't help the tree this day with his mind racing back and forth and never allowing him to concentrate on any other thing than Malfoy. Malfoys hands. Malfoys long limbs, his pale calves. His knobbly knees and white, white skin. His shoulder blades Neville had wanted to brush his lips over, tasting him.

Neville groaned, the images flickering behind his closed eyelids and something sharp was tugging underneath his belly.

Arousal.

"For Merlin sakes.", he muttered, but let his hands wander, slowly, into his pants.


	11. Her heart hurts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so glad that you guys are patient and so nice with me and don't hurry me to speed up and write faster and stuff like that.
> 
> So I just really wanted to thank you guys. I appreciate that a lot.  
> Thousand thanks and have fun =)
> 
> Chapters song: [Raffaella - Bruce Willis](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A_fFClrpfE8&list=RDA_fFClrpfE8&index=1)

When Neville's letter came, she sat next to Harry, and their crossed legs touched briefly now and then.

Luna had made some tea, the scent of lavender and mint filled their noses, and she sighed contentedly. She could feel Harry's soft skin on her own and the body heat, which gradually spread from him.

Right next to them, she could hear a soft HOOT and then a small Southern-white face owl hoped towards Harry, a parchment on her leg and a crooked ear.

"Hello there.", Harry murmured and leaned towards the owl to ruffle the soft feathers, who gave another melodious HOOT and stretched out its small leg with the letter.

Hurridly Harry picked it up and said absently, that the little one could get some cookies in the kitchen while he started to read.

His thick brows raised and fell permanently and all his emotions were readable on his smooth face.

Luna loved to watch him. How the corner of his mouth quirked when he read something funny or his finger played absently with a curl.

And then he shouted, "Oh MERLIN.!"

"What is it?", Luna asked, despite she already knew what Harry would tell her and a small smile stole onto her face.

"Look yourself.", Harry exclaimed and nearly pushed the letter in her face, "Read that and tell me what Neville is talking about!"

Slowly, trying not to laugh out loud, Luna took the paper and rushed over the neat, narrowed handwriting of one of her best friends.

"It's nice that Neville wants to celebrate your both birthdays at Longbottom estates.", She said, not lifting up her eyes. She could feel Harry's restless energy on her tongue and her skin and all she wanted to do, was absorb it in thoroughly.

"No, not that!", Harry pointed out and poke on the last section of the letter, "Look what he has written about Malfoy, all those...emotions"

Luna read the part and shrugged her shoulder, "I don't know what you mean, Harry."

"What?", He said, tore the letter out of her hand and began to quote, "It's pretty strange what living with someone does to you. What in Merlins sake happened to him?

Now Luna couldn't hold it back any longer, and she snorted, which brought her an irritated look, "Well, they live together, in a small place and so they got to know each other better."

"But...", Harry said with a frown, "It's Malfoy!"

"Draco is a normal boy, too, Harry.", she answered after that and stretched out her feet, digging her toes in the mud, which was still slightly damp from the rain earlier.

"He is, isn't he?", Harry murmured and she could hear, that he tied so hard to understand what they directly had read about Malfoy and what they read between the lines what Neville thought and felt about the boy.

"You know.", Luna started and shifted her whole body, so she touched Harry briefly, "When I was in Malfoy Manor after Christmas."

Harry jerked violently, undoubting feeling guilty about what had happened to her in the war, he wasn't able to end sooner.

"When I was there, Draco often came into the dungeons and brought me food or to clean my clothes and hair with a spell."

When she closed her eyes, she could almost feel and smell the dark place and the cold stone walls. How her voice had echoed in the great room, and somewhere a small trickle of rainwater was coming from the ceiling. How cold her feet had been and how utterly concerned she had been about her father's whereabouts.

"You know.", She said and smiled at Harry, "I was pretty scared down there, before Mister Ollivander, Griphook and Dean came. But Draco and Mrs Malfoy sometimes came down there and talked to me. Always for a short time and never about anything specific, but about how much it was snowing or what they were currently reading. Just little things, so I wouldn't go mad."  
She sent Harry a smile when she felt his sadness.

"So, they were kind to you?"

"Yes.", she stated, "Very much."

After that, she was looking to the sky, observing the rising of the moon for a very long time, while Harry was reading the letter over and over again until she could hear the grumbling of the parchment.

"Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey like him a lot.", He said in the silence, scanning the letter again, "She told me about Malfoy being at Hogwarts and how things are there at the moment. Neville wrote nearly the same."

"I know. I've visited Neville yesterday and met Draco. He looked really awful."

"You did?"

"I was there to talk to the Headmistress and went afterwards to Neville's room, but he wasn't there, but Draco was. We talked."

"You like him?", he said into the silence.

"I do.", Luna answered him thoughtfully.

"And Neville likes him too."

"He does."

"How much, what do you think?"

Luna turned to Harry. The moonlight was illuminating his face, and the green eyes sparkled.

"Do you really wanna know?", her mouth jumped, another smile wanted to creep onto it.

"Oh.", Harry said and shifted nervously from side to side, "Oh."

"Yeah.", Luna answered again and took the letter, seeing the apparent emotions and uncertainties between the lines.

It was silent again for some time, only their breathing and some crickets and birds audible. Luna was certain that Harry wasn't sure what to think about this information. Neville liking blokes and Draco in particular. Raised by the wrong kind of Muggles, there were a lot of doubtful thoughts in Harry's mind, and she understood, that he needed the time to think about it thoughtfully. Then Harry took a deep breath.

"Should I invite Malfoy to the birthday party as well?"

"Do you want to?"

"I don't know.", Harry said, "But Neville would do, wouldn't he?"

"He would.", Luna said.

"Ok.", Harry said.

"Ok?"

"Yeah, ok."  


* * *

 

The next morning Luna was woken by a loud knocking and her father's cheerful babbling about wildfire and beautiful sparkles.

Her limbs were heavy, and her toes curled gently in the blankets, rubbing together like always when she woke up and felt safe, content and rested.

"Luna? Are you awake?", A soft voice carried through the wooden door of her room, and she immediately recognised it. Faster than she would have liked it, she stood up and opened the door with a happy shriek.

"GINNY!", she wrapped her arms around the other girl and hugged her fiercely.

"Hellu Miss Moon.", whispered the red-haired girl into Luna's shoulder and hugged her back, "How are you?"

Luna wasn't sure why, but Ginny and she hadn't been in contact the last few weeks, their letters short and somehow distance. Not really like it used to be, before the end of the war.

"I'm good.", She murmured, "Better than good, you?"

Slowly they let go of each other, eyed each other up.

"I'm good as well."

And she did look better, Luna reckoned.

The youngest Weasley offspring looked healthy and beautiful. The long bright hair was in a high ponytail, and she wore sports clothes, and a bit make up. Ginny looked like she came out of the Witch Weekly magazine, they had always laughed about.

"Tea?", Luna asked and smiled when Ginny's eyebrow jumped as it had always done when someone suggested something she was fond of.

So they trailed down the stairs to the kitchen, where her father shortly looked up and statued while pointing at Ginny's hair, "Wildfire."

"Right you are.", Luna said and kissed him on the cheek before she went to the sink to boil the water for tea.

Luna sat on the counter, legs crossed and watched her best friend, who watched her back.

"What have you done the last past weeks?", she asked, waiting for the almost audible click of the muggle water heater Harry had got her.

"I was often in the shop, helping George, you know.", Ginny said vaguely.

"How is he?"

"Better.", Ginny shrugged, but her eyes didn't meet hers, "Or he will be. I think that when Hogwarts starts again and he has a lot to do in the shop, that he will feel useful again, you know?!"

The heater clicked, and Luna filled the cups with water. The room instantly smelled like heavy herbs and Darjeeling.

"Can I do something for him?", She asked, sending a cup with a levitating charm to Ginny and then to her father, who chuckled lowly, "Maybe sending him some flowers or a loaf of bread I made?"

Ginny shrugged again, "I'm not sure what will help him, but if you want. It's hard to lose someone; you were so close, you know."

"I do.", Luna answered, thinking about her mother and her mind thrifting a little bit away until she heard, "I thought, maybe, I should talk to Harry about, well you know."

"Oh.", she said, but it came out more like an "Oh?"

"Yeah, I think we rushed and because of war, fresh wounds and heads full of hurt and trauma, we ended it, before we gave it a real go, you know."

Luna swallowed. She wasn't sure what she should say to her best friend. What she could tell her about Harry and her.

There was something, but nothing specific. There was no definition about their something, and she couldn't do that to her best friend.  
So Luna just shrugged her shoulders and tried to vanish the lump in her throat.

And as if called, Harry came into the Cottage as if it belonged to him. A small paper bag in his arms and a big goofy smile towards her, "Hey Luna, I brought some eggs and flour from the market where Mrs Weasley always gets the fresh stuff!"

Then he saw Ginny at the table, and the bright smile vanished like it had been slapped out of his face. Instead, a hurtful grimace appeared and he pressed out, "Hello Gin."

Ginny didn't seem to notice his discomfort and smiled brightly, "Hey Harry, fancy to meet here. I just talked to Luna about you."

"Really?", he said and went to sit next to Luna on the counter instead of at the table, where a lot of seats were free.

"Tea?", Luna said and didn't wait for an answer, but prepared another cup, while Ginny chatted happily about the shop, about Charlie and the dragon reserve in Wales and how she had missed him so much.

It made Luna so furious, so angry, that her hands shook and she didn't know what to do with herself, because like always when Harry was in the room, no one existed for Ginny.

And Harry listened to her, still uncomfortable and out of place, answering with "yes, of course"'s and "no, better not"'s until Ginny said, "What do you think, Harry? Would you like to go to the Leakey for a pint and to talk?"

Her cheeks were flushed, and it was plain what she hoped for, and Luna's heart broke a bit.

She jumped down the counter, gripped the eggs and mumbled, "I'll make some pancakes, alright?" and ignored the two in favour to do something with her hands and with her racing mind and her hurting, hurting heart.

Slowly, the muggle way she began to cook and to try to listen to the world and the ghosts around her and not to Harry's answer, but she heard it anyway.

He coughed and then said, "I think that would be a good idea."

Luna bit her lip before a sound of astonishment could slip between them and furiously began to mix the dough.

She didn't speak until they were served and fed and only because Ginny hugged her goodbye and said, "You look good, Luna. Like you met someone special."

She winked, and a sly grin appeared on her lips.

"Do I?", Luna asked hesitantly and she squinted towards Harry.

"Yeah. It suits you a lot.", Ginny replied, "Is there someone?"

Harry looked at Luna instantly, and maybe there was something like hope in his eyes?!

It couldn't be if he wanted to go with Ginny to the Leakey Cauldron, so it must have been probably curiosity.

So, Luna, even if her heart shattered a bit and her mind screamed loudly, how awful it was, said, "No. There is no one."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BTW: No, I don't hate Ginny. No, she won't be the antagonist and no, she is not a cow. It will be fine and everything will work out, more or less, I promise, but for now...I like really slow burn stuff, so this will reeeeeeeeeeeeeally slow burn. Sorry for that :D


	12. Exhaustion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've written the chapter, read through it a few days later and was really dissatisfied with it, so I've rewritten the whole thing and now it's like I wanted it.
> 
> Hope you guys are all right and have a wonderful start into autumn.  
> (I love autumn, the smell, the colours, Halloween, pumpkins...yay!)
> 
> Chapters song: [Dan Owen - Moonlight](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CGa5jJE59mo)

Not for the first time Harry wished he could snag some Polyjuice from Hermione's ever not present helpful little bag before going to Diagon Alley and avoid all those glances and whispers.

All the people who wanted to thank him, touch his face and hands as if they were holy and would give them some luck. It was a warm summer day, and he knew that a man in a long cloak and a hood would cause a stir as well as none. Since the battle, he hasn't touched his invisibility cloak, too many memories and Harry had never been particularly good at casting glamours charms.

Maybe, he thought while nearly running down the well-visited street with a blank mask of inviolability; perhaps he should practice the charms.

"Harry Potter!" - "It's Harry Potter."-"There, look."- "Thank you Mister Potter, thank you so much.", He could hear the voices from everywhere, and once or twice someone tried to touch him, which caused him to run even faster, holding his head down and watching the paved street. Carefully avoiding the small recesses between the old stones. It had been a game he had played when he was younger. Jumping from one big stone to another, not allowed to touch the in-betweens or he would lose. He never lost, but always played alone, Dudley and his friends had laughed when he told them once. He had never talked about it again.

He crushed into a middle-aged woman with a slightly crooked purple hat and a clashing magenta cloak.

"I'm sorry.", He apologised fast and tried to walk away, but she had clutched the sleeve of his jumper and babbled, "Harry Potter! What an honour."

Harry took a deep breath and tried to smile at her while losing her fingers from the fabric so he could leave.

"It's so nice to meet you. My name is Agnes Rembly,", she starred out of big blue eyes directly at his faded scar.

"Hello, Mrs Rembley.", He mumbled and looked around. Now that he stood still and was not running down the street the people in Diagon Alley seemed to think of that as an invitation and approached him rapidly.

"Oh no, Miss Rembley, not Mrs and please call me Agnes.", the witch said and smiled at him even wider, and a slight shiver went down his spine.

"Well, Miss Rembley, nice to meet you, but I'm in a hurry.", Harry countered and started to walk again. There was now a big crowd gathered around him, and he pushed through them with loud and more and more stressed, "Excuse me. Sorry, could you please let me..."'s.

When he reached the front steps of the ministry, it only got worse. There were hands all over his body, some on his hands, some in his hair and all those people pressed up against him made him nauseous.

His heart sped up, and he knew that his breath came unsteadily, a dizzy feeling spread in his head, and his fingertips tingled unpleasantly. Harry wasn't sure, but somewhere nearby he could hear something which sounded suspiciously like the flashlight of a camera and hot sweat prickled under the fridge of his long hair.

He only wanted to kneel down, put his hands on his eyes until there was this strange orange light flickering behind his eyelids and wait for it to be all over when he heard his name spoken by a familiar voice.

"Harry my boy, are you all right?", The voice said, and then he was hurled into surprisingly strong arms, and the familiar scent of Arthur Weasley twirled around him. It smelt like fresh pastries, Molly's washing powder and the strong mint tea Mr Weasley loved so much.

"Mr Weasley?", He whispered, and suddenly all the oxygen he hadn't known was missing rushed back into his lungs. He hadn't even noticed that he had closed his eyes and indeed clutched the hands over his head.

"Yes, Harry, it's me.", spoke the man, who was like the father he only had for shortly over a year and couldn't remember and rubbed his hand over Harry's back shushing, "Let's go to my office, alright boy?"

"Please.", he murmured weakly and followed the man into the Ministry's entrance hall.

When they entered Mr Weasley's office, Harry visibly let out a shudder, "God, that was awful."

"It was.", Arthur said and led him to one of the comfortable looking chairs, so Harry could sit while the other man made some tea.

"I hate it so much.", Harry mumbled and starred at the untidy desk in front of him. Papers over papers, quills and some pictures of him and Molly or the Ron, Ginny and the others. The room was small and had only one tiny window. Not even big enough to put one's head trough, but it smelled like the Burrow and now like fresh tea and butter crackers.

Arthur gave him a steaming mug with tea, which smelled like lavender and other herbs and Harry clutched it as if his life depended on it.

"Why didn't you Floo here?", the red-haired man asked after he sat down next to Harry and smiled at him warmly.

Harry took a deep sip of the tea and felt instantly better, "Kreacher was working on the fireplace this morning and ..."He trailed off and shrugged his shoulders.

"What are you doing here, anyway?", Arthur asked and added hurriedly, "Not that I'm not pleased to see you, Harry."

Harry smiled and slowly relaxed into the chair. The tension fell off his shoulders, and the tight grip on the cup loosened a bit.

"I've got a meeting with Kingsley at 10 am.", He cringed a bit, still not comfortable with using the ministers first name even if they fought a war together and were on friendly terms.

"Oh really?", Arthur seemed to register Harry's discomfort and chuckled lightly, "Are you consider his offer to start Auror training now?"

"Merlin, no.", Harry said dismissively, "I really do want to go back to Hogwarts. You know, for at least one normal year at school. No, I'm here because of a request of Headmistress McGonagall."

Arthur's eyes darkened, and he nodded slowly, "I've heard about young Draco Malfoy. The Howler Minerva sent to Glades Ivery, the head of Auror department was... let's say it was unmistakable."

Harry nearly sniggered, as he could imagine the Howler a furious Professor McGonagall must have sent to the Ministry, even if he had seen her in a funny patterned morning gown.

"It's unforgiving what they have done..", Arthur just said, and Harry wasn't sure who he meant and just wanted to say something when the older man proceeded, "Those children do not belong into Azkaban. This is unacceptable, really it is. I've seen the proofs, some pictures of Mr Malfoy Poppy had sent, and it was really cruel. It's a wonder the boy lived."

He shuddered violently, and Harry wondered not for the first time how bad it really had been.

"We're proud of you, Harry.", Arthur finished and patted his hand, "Molly and I, for helping them."

Harry smiled lopsided, "Thank you, Mr Weasley."

"What do you think, would you like to come to dinner this evening? Molly would love to have you and George of course."

Harry's heart wrenched hurtfully, and his throat closed up. He hadn't seen George for nearly a fortnight, but he had promised, so he shook his head.

"I would love to, but I can't come tonight. Ginny and I wanted to meet later."

"That's nice to hear.", said Arthur and just looked at Harry for a few heartbeats, no emotions showing on his face and then smiled at him even more warmly than before and pointed at his clock, "You should go, it's nearly ten."

Quickly Harry gulped down the tea and thanked the man, for being there, for not trying to talk to him about what just had happened in Diagon Alley and for his kindness.

When Harry reached the door, the turned around and asked with a small voice, "Mr Weasley?"

"Hm?"

"Ginny and me.", Harry started and tried to avoid the searching blue eyes, "We won't, you know...get together."

"I see.", he only said, and Harry tried to swallow, although his throat was as dry as the desert Sahara, and then Mr Weasley seemed to register what Harry tried to say, but couldn't.

"Oh, Harry.", He said, and his voice was so warm, "You won't lose us as your family."

The older man stepped closer and laid his hands on Harry's shoulders, "It doesn't matter if you and Ginny are in a relationship. You are dear to all of us and you're a part of our family either way."

"Really?", Harry bit his lips.

"Really.", Arthur assured him and pulled him into a brief, but tight hug and when he let go of Harry again he added with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, "No off you go, young lad and please tell Miss Lovegood best regards, will you?"  
Before Harry could blush furiously, the other had opened the door and waved him goodbye.

Luna.

Harry sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

" _No, there is no one_.", Luna's words echoed in his head like Voldemorts darkest thoughts, even a few nights later. His heart had squeezed tightly, but he hadn't been sure what to say to that. So he remained silent.

After that Ginny had gone home and he had helped Luna clean up the kitchen after the massacre she had done. They had worked mostly in silence, and when the mood became nearly unbearable, he went home as well.

He was hurt and self-conscious about the situation. Maybe he had imagined their closeness over the last months and how she might feel about him.

They certainly never had talked about it, wanting to take their time. At least that's what he had thought. Or hoped.

Had he only imagined their looks? How her gaze wandered over his face and his body when they laid at the lake? How their bodies touched so naturally, without any hesitation? And how good he always felt, when their hands touched? Like her skin washed away every thought about the war, about his failures and sadness.

Since then Harry hadn't shown up at Luna's house again.

But at Grimmauld place, he wouldn't; couldn't stay as well, even after Kreacher had worked wonders. The house became, slowly, but steady, a home. No dark corners, no screaming portraits anymore. But light-flooded rooms, warm colours, pictures; magical and muggle, all over the place. Still, it wasn't completely home and being alone was not a question.

So instead of doing going to Luna or being in Grimmauld place, he tried to distract himself from the dilemma and went to the ministry.

That's why he was here. To distract him and help Gregory Goyle, Theodore Nott and other teenagers who made one bad decision in their life and paid now for it.

So, Harry practically ran through the ministry corridors, avoiding every person with a blank mask of inviolability, and came with a thundering heart to halt.

"Mister Potter.", the lean secretary next to Kingsley's office smiled brightly at him, "He is already waiting for you."

"Thanks.", Harry muttered. With a sharp knock and without waiting for an answer, Harry entered Kingsley's office for the second time in less than two weeks.

Kingsley sat on his desk, an amount of paper and files and books piled on the neat marble slab, and he looked like he was drowning in work. The room was perceptibly bigger than Mr Weasleys but equally warm and comfortable.

"Harry.", The man said and sent him a thankful look, "Merlin, it's good to see you. Trust me when I say, that you should never ever consider being the minister of magic."

"I wouldn't dare.", Harry answered and went to sit on the free chair in front of the desk.

"Pity.", Kingsley murmured and stretched out his long legs, watching him warily, "Harry, are you sure you want to come with us to Azkaban?"

Harry raised an eyebrow, "Of course, I'm sure."

He wanted to visit Azkaban to see with his own eyes how his former classmates were treated. And he wanted to use his popularity for helping them, as he had promised Headmistress McGonagall.

"I am sure, Kingsley.", He repeated and tried to hide his annoyance behind a stern glare until Kinglsey stood up and nodded reluctantly.

"If you say so, Harry, but Azkaban is still a dark, sad place."

For a moment Harry considered to answer him, that he had seen a lot of dark, sad places in his short life, but he knew it wouldn't help, so he just sighed and shrugged his shoulders.

Kingsley scrutinised him for a few moments and then seemed to let it go. He held out his arm and said, "Hold on tight, Harry." before he apparated them away.

 

Azkaban was...

Harry wasn't sure what Azkaban was, but it was dark and sad and awful. The dark stone masonry stood out of the heavy mist and even looked cold and depressing from the outside.

When they landed next to the big entrance, Harry suppressed a shudder, which Kingsley immediately noticed. The man said nothing but just raised a livid eyebrow.

"Minister Shacklebolt.", A deep voice behind them spoke and when they turned around Harry could see some guards in standard Auror robes and two other men. Clothed in dark, thick fabrics and dark blue leather belts around their hips, legs and arms for their wands, keys and magical signatures.

"And Mister Harry Potter.", said the bigger man and shot him a grim smile, "Welcome to Azkaban."

"Thank you, Edward.", Kingsley said and nodded to the door, "Let's go, shall we?"

While they were going inside the building, Kingsley informed Harry that these two men, Edward and Harrison, were his personal bodyguards and would go with them, just in case.

"Minister.", A guard spoke up and shook Kingsley's hand, while shooting Harry curious glances, "Welcome. What an honour to have you two in our little prison."

The man nearly smiled at that.

"Captain Ferguson.", Kingsley answered grimly, "You've got our letter?"

"Yes, Minister.", the man responded quickly and opened another door with a swish of his wand and indicated them to follow him.

The deeper Harry and his accompaniment went inside the colder it got. White, icy breath came out of Harry's mouth while walking beside Kingsley and silently he asked himself if it was this cold for the prisoners as well or if it would get better. He was nearly certain it wouldn't get better, and this thought chilled him even more than the ice cold air around him.

Captain Ferguson told them that the prisoners were nearly ready to come with them and he listed few names, including Liliana Flint, the little sister of Marcus Flint, and Christy McClear.

With them, Harry thought and was surprised, that he could take them all to Hogwarts this fast when he registered something.

"And what's with Gregory Goyle and Theodore Nott?", he asked, speaking for the first time since they arrived at this place.

Ferguson turned to watch Harry, a dark bushy eyebrow trembling and then said, "Those two are not ready to come with you."

"Why?", Harry asked, and the picture of a beaten Draco Malfoy slipped into his imagination.

When Ferguson hesitated too long, Kingsley said with a calm, but hostile voice, "I want to see them."

"This can be certainly arranged for the next time.", Ferguson said, and Harry could see, that some of the colour in his cheeks had vanished.

"Now.", Kingsly only responded and stopped, crossing the arms in front of his chest.

"Now?", Ferguson shriekt and both Harry and Kingsley nodded firmly.

"Now.", Harry repeated, and the demand was unmistakable.

The man looked at them for a moment and then sighed, shrugged and went even deeper into the building.

It was nearly completely dark, only a few magical torches on the stone walls and the damp cold crept into Harry's heavy coat until goosebumps covered his entire body for every second.

Ferguson stopped in front of a cell and gestured in the direction where Harry could see a small figure hurled on the floor, "Nott and over there in the other cell is Goyle."

Theodore Nott didn't raise his head when Ferguson mentioned his name, but his whole body jerked violently and, as it seemed, he curled even more together, making him smaller and smaller until, maybe, no one could see him.

Kingsley went to the other cell, and Harry could hear his sharp inhalation.

"Open the door.", Harry ordered one of the other guards, and when he didn't move he shouted, "OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR, NOW!"

The door opened and, followed by Edward, Harry stepped inside the small cell.

"Theodore Nott?", He said softly and hunched over the other boy, not touching him, just being near him, "Theo?"

Slowly Theodore Nott turned to him, and Harry couldn't breathe anymore. The other boy's face was covered in dark, nearly black bruises and on his chin was dry blood.

"Potter?", Theodore rasped out, his voice rough like he hadn't used it in ages or screamed for hours. Suddenly Harry remembered that Theodore Nott was born two days after him. Two bloody days, the boy could have been him. Like Neville could have been.

"What are you doing here?", Theodore Nott now nearly sat on the floor, his weak arms holding him upwards.

"Helping you.", Harry said and turned around to Edward, "Please help him up. We are going now."

"You can't take these two with you now.", Ferguson tried to argue, but before Harry could answer back, Kingsley said calmly,

"But I can and I will."

Within minutes, Harry stepped outside the dark building, supporting a tired looking Theodore Nott.

"Where are we going?", the boy asked him, and Harry simply said, "Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts? We're going to Hogwarts?", Christy McClear asked, and right before the Portkey pulled Harry and the others away, he heard Theodore Nott whisper, "Home?!"

 

When Harry walked down a Londoner street towards the pub he wanted to meet Ginny, he was exhausted and not in the mood.

He wanted to go home, shower for a long time and then sleep for the next century, but he had promised her they would meet.

Kingsley, Edward and Harrison had helped him bring all the children, and Harry couldn't lie to himself, they were just that: children, to Hogwarts. After talking to McGonagall and then helping Madam Pomfrey. He had left a letter for Draco Malfoy and then went back to the Ministry, filling out forms after forms, he just wanted...his bed or Luna. Being comforted by her, that's what he yearned for.

Ginny was already at the pub, smiling brightly at him and ordering another pint for him when he sat down.

"Hey, Harry.", She breathed a kiss on his cheek and pulled him into a hug.

"Gin.", He smiled back and took the large pint gratefully from the young barmaid.

"How are you?", She asked, and her light brown eyes sparkled a bit.

"Honestly? Exhausted and I'm looking forward to my bed.", Harry answered and tried not to touch the sticky table with his hands.

Ginny's face fell, and she gnawed anxiously on her lower lip, "Oh."

"Yeah, long day. How was yours?", He asked her hurriedly, not wanting her to feel bad and then listened to her talking.

How wonderful the Quidditch training with Oliver Wood was, who she had met a few weeks ago and what progress she and George had made in the store. About how fantastic Nevilles and his birthday was going to be and how much fun they would have then.

The whole time Harry nibbled at his chips and wondered and thought about Luna. What had she done during the day? Probably made some excellent breakfast with her father and then went into the garden, doing some serious work before lowering into the warm grass and talking to the gnomes and butterflies and...

"...Wouldn't it be nice?"

"Huh?", He shook his head, had he really not listened to one word Ginny had told him?

"Sorry Gin, I'm drained, could you repeat it?"

She still smiled at him, but it was somehow strained a bit, "Oh well, no problem. Shall we go home maybe?"  
Harry just nodded, relieved that he could finally go home and to bed. When they stepped outside the pub and walked to the

Apparition Point, Ginny said something to him, which he didn't catch.

"Sorry, what was that?"

"I just asked you, if you would like to come home with me today?!"

Harry's mouths fell wide open, and for some sickening heartbeats, he just gaped at her. She couldn't have asked him that, could she?

"Or me going with you, home, to bed?", Her eyes were so hopeful, and for one second he considered it. Not wanting to be alone after that day and just feeling something, someone. But then he sighed.

"Look, Gin.", He tried to say, rubbing his hands absently over his face and sighed again, "No, no, I don't think that would be a good idea."

"But..", Ginny tried to say, but he interrupted her.

"We ended the relationship, remember?", and he tried, he tried so hard not show how desperate he was for this friendship he wanted to have, "Please?!"

"I...", She hitched, coughed and then again, "I just want to be with you, Harry."

He just shook his head, not able to say anything any more than another "Sorry." and apparated straight home into his living room.

"Shit.", he mumbled, rubbing at his tired eyes fiercely and then he heard the soft whisper of fabric against fabric.

Startled he looked up and there, on the rusty antique sofa was Luna, eyeing him up and then held out a hand for him.

And he took it.


	13. A new normality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter's song:  
> [Garrett Kato - Take It Slowly](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fVrksXjLi0w&list=RDMMfVrksXjLi0w&start_radio=1)

" _Malfoy,_  
 _I know this is going to be completely awkward and maybe I've gone nuts, but this is an invitation to Nevilles and my birthday party this Thursday, being Neville's roommate and such. It's Nevilles actual birthday like we'll going to celebrate out of his's and into mine, you know?!_

_Anyway, the party will be at Longbottom Estate and starts at 6 pm._   
_I know that you are, usually, not allowed to leave the school grounds, but I've already asked Headmistress McGonagall if you could, and she said yes._

_Just tell Nev if you come or not so we can plan beforehand._   
_I don't know why and how but Nev' seems to like you a lot and I think he would be happy to see you there._

_HP_ "

The moon stood high and lightened the whole hospital wing, so Draco hadn't needed a Lumos or extra light for reading the small parchment. Draco sat on one of the uncomfortable chairs between Theo and Greg's bed and read the letter.

Completely shocked Draco held the letter in his hands and tried to ignore the flutter in his stomach.

Neville would like to have him there and Potter.

Potter was willing to help?

He sighed and stretched out his long, tired legs.

  
The day had been hell. Just after lunch Potter, the minister and some Aurors popped into Hogwarts with nearly two dozen teenagers, who had been in Azkaban the last few weeks. Some were only tired and needed a warm bed, something solid to eat and care, but others like Theo and Greg were half dead.

Seeing his childhood friends, the boys with whom Draco had played in the halls of Malfoy Manor hide and seek or build a treehouse in the nearest forest of Theo's ancestors home, in this condition made him sick.

Without talking, Draco had helped Madam Pomfrey cleaning the dirty bodies of his friends. Whipping the blood, grease and mud from their painfully swollen skin.

"Draco?", Greg has mumbled, the O in his name high and childlike emphasised and Draco had just shushed him while rubbing some salves into Greg's purple beaten skin. The scent of potent herbs and lemon had filled his nostrils while doing so and

Greg let out a surprise, but satisfied groan when his wounds healed.

Draco's hair kept falling into his eyes and thus hid the tears of terror, he didn't brush off his face. Around dinner, Astoria Greengrass came into the hospital wing and helped to distribute soups and bread to the others, spoke to them in a gentle voice, while Draco and Madam Pomfrey healed Theo's multiple bone fractures. His friend didn't make a sound, just laid in the bed and looked as tiny as a child and watched them anxiously.

"Poor boy.", the woman muttered under her breath and carefully brushed off the thick, dirty hair of Theo's face, like the mother his friend had never had.

After the lights were turned off and the long room was only filled with soft breathing and the rustling of fabric, Draco collapsed onto the chair in Madam Pomfrey's office. He just sat there, staring at his hands. His blood-smeared hands. He wasn't even sure if it was Theo's or someone else's. His whole body ached. The tension in his back and shoulders heavy and he knew that his eyes would drop with exhaustion in a minute.

"Draco.", Madam Pomfrey's soft voice reached his ears and a gentle hand laid on his face, tugging his chin, so he had to look up to her, "Draco."

"How can you be so calm?", He whispered to her, not able to speak out loud. His head hurt, his throat hurt, his heart hurt.

"About this?", She asked, and stern, but not unkind eyes looked at him and when he nodded, a sad smile twisted on her thin lips, "It's not as bad as last year, remember?"

And he did. Of course, he did. Draco couldn't forget the shaking first-year boy, a muggleborn, who had the pleasure to be personally tortured by Alecto Carrow. Of course, he remembered Finnegan's twitching limbs and bloodied lips and knuckles.

He remembered the soft cries in the hospital wing night after night and how desperate he had been to do something to make them feel better. Draco was sure he would never forget.

"Wash your hands and then take this.", She held out a little parchment with his name on, written in the most untidy handwriting Draco had ever seen. Slowly he rose from his seat and went to the sink in the corner of the room, scrubbing his fingers with soap and warm water until his hands were rosy and didn't hold any proof of the day.

"Do you want some tea, Draco?", the old healer asked him and gestured towards some fresh lavender and peppermint, while he dried his hands.

For a moment he considered her offer. Tea sounded lovely and comfortable, but his eyes burned, and he merely shook his head.

"I think I'm going to bed.", He replied and went to grab the parchment, "But thank you."

Madam Pomfrey looked up from the task of filling one white-blue striped cup with the right amount of leaves and hot, steaming water and she sent him a grateful smile, "Thank you, Draco. You were a wonderful help today. Without you, I wouldn't be finished by now."

And despite all thing that happened that day, her words and her smile made him proud.

"Good night, Madam Pomfrey.", He said right before closing the door of her office.

 

So Draco just sat there, the parchment with Potters very words on it on his knees and listening to the soft, steady breaths of his childhood friends., watching them. Both his friends slept deeply, thanks to the dreamless sleep potion and without fear and pain twisting their faces they looked so young. And Draco could easily hear Greg's bell bright children laughter and Theo's hushed sniggering when they hid under the grand dining table. The table Nagini devoured Charity Burbage. He shuddered.

He had been paralysed when Potter brought Theo, leaning on the hero of the wizarding world, until an Auror past him, brushed his shoulders and helping an unconscious Emily McKenzie on a free bed.

They were all stable, all safe now, but Draco felt terrible for thinking to leave them back, again.

When he still was in Azkaban, he had seen his friends now and then. And he had heard them, every night. Listened to their crying, their shouts of pain, when another guard wanted to prove himself and hurt them, because of their past decisions.

He brushed another dark curl from Theo's sweaty forehead. 

Draco knew what he and his friends had done was wrong, what they had said and thought had been bad, and he wished, wished so much that he could undo it, but, as far as he knew, the last time turner had been destroyed over two years ago.

So he couldn't change anything except for being sorry and saying it out loud.

"Shouldn't you be in your bed?", A familiar voice said right next to him. Draco jerked back, eyeing Headmistress McGonagall warily.

"There is no curfew, is there?"

She chuckled quietly, and her cat-like eyes twinkled with amusement, and Draco wondered if this was something a person had to master before they could be Headmistress or master of Hogwarts.

"No there isn't, Mister Malfoy.", She answered, but laid a thin, but steady hand on his should, "Nevertheless it was a long, hard day."

He understood her intention, and with a last look to Theo, whose face was smooth and calm, he followed her out.

Instead of simply sending him to his rooms, she accompanied him.

"How are you, Draco?", The Scottish woman asked after a few steps and Draco, unsure about everything in his life, answered truthfully.

"I don't know.", the parchment, still in his hand, rustled a bit and he held it towards her, "What should I do."

McGonagall didn't take the letter, already knowing what it contained, and shrugged her shoulders, "What do you want?"

"Normality.", And the earnest in his voice hurt. It hurt him so much, his whole stomach clenched.

"And what is normality for you?"

"I don't know.", He said, wringing his hands until a knuckle cracked, "I need to find it."

"You see, Draco.", She stopped in front of his room, eyeing the soft light which shone through under the wooden door and smoothed out wrinkles of her soft, dark green robe, "Normality is what you do with your everyday life and what and who you accept in it."

She closed a hand around his, the parchment whispered promising in the otherwise silent corridor.

He looked at her hand, paper-thin skin with some age spots and so soft.

"So, you think I should go to the party?"

McGonagall let go of him and sent him a small smile, "I think you shouldn't close wide open doors, even if you are scared of the other side."

"But..."

"Good night, Mister Malfoy."

He sighed, "Good night, Headmistress."

With that, she turned around, and her steps echoed in the hall.

He leaned on the cold stone wall and shook his head. Should he go? Should he not? What should he do? He didn't know anything anymore.

Slowly, as quietly as possible, he opened the door to go inside.

At first, he couldn't find Neville when he stepped into the room, but after looking around, he saw him.

And there he was, wearing only a plain white shirt and some black boxers and laying on Draco's bed, eyes closed and the last novel Draco had gotten from the library on his chest.

For a few quick heartbeats, Draco couldn't move but just look at him. Neville's face was soft, thanks to the sun a warm honey-ish colour had spread on his skin, and his shiny lips were slightly parted.

Silently Draco sat on the other bed, the bed he had made, more than once in the last week.

Since that night Timothy had beat him up after a few hours of disturbed sleep and tossing around Neville crawled into Draco's bed, cuddling him close. Both boys had learned that they slept far better with the other by their sides than alone and without talking about it or even registering their closeness, they sought out the other.

The first time after that night when Draco had sighed out loud after laying wide awake für hours, Neville had jumped out of bed and stepped beside Draco's.

"Move.", he had said, and at first, his hands and then knees had touched the mattress.

Maybe, Draco thought, maybe it had been easier for Neville to lay into Draco's bed from the start than wander to him in the middle of the night. They always only slept in Draco's bed, and he wondered why. Was Neville not as comfortable in his own than in Draco's and if so, why? The beds were identical.

A particularly loud snore from Neville and Draco opened the parchment to read it again.

He sighed again and quietly went to the bathroom, Potters letter on the sink, while taking a long, hot shower. Ginger and lemon scent filled his senses, and slowly he started to relax.

Barefoot and still wet hair, Draco went back into the bedroom and slowly, without waking Neville, took the book from his chest.

Without hesitation, he slipped Potters letter between random pages and crawled into his bed.

Neville mumbled in his sleep, and immediately he curled his big arms around Draco's waist.

Draco never really had time to watch him before. There were, scattered, some freckles on his straight nose. Much less than Weasley, of course, but even less than Draco himself, and he was sure that he could count them in no time. There were visible stubbles on his chin and cheek, even a bit over his full lips and Draco wondered how they would feel under his fingertips.

Scratchy or soft?

Haltingly he stretched out a hand, but before he could touch Neville, his golden eyelashes flattered and he opened his eyes.

For a moment Neville just watched him with those huge brown-green eyes, but then he smiled.

"Hey.", He whispered.

"Hellu.", Draco answered, clenching his hand, the hand with which he had wanted to touch him.

"You are here."

"Yeah."

"Good.", He didn't loosen his grip around Draco's waist, a thumb slowly cares his side, and he watched him for some time,

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, really.", Draco shook his head, tried to bury his face in the pillow, but Neville got a closer.

"This close, you look much worse than from over there.", He mumbled, his breath brushed over Draco's skin, and he wasn't sure if Neville intended him to hear that. 

"Thanks.", He huffed and closed his tired, burning eyes. Without thinking, he wrapped his leg around Neville's.

"I mean it. Did something happen?"

Draco's eyes snapped open, "You haven't heard?"

Neville blinked, and suddenly his eyes looked sad, "Gran' and I went to St. Mungo. To visit my parents."

"Oh.", and it sounded so small, so fragile like Neville looked at the moment, "How are they?"

And this must have been the least the Gryffindor had expected, but he answered anyway, "They are...fine. Dad's a bit sick, small flu, but nothing serious. Mum is fine, although a bit upset. That's all."

Draco had heard about Neville's mother, that her disorientation and confusion got worse every year. And that Neville had gone to St. Mungos as fast he could, after the battle full with the hope that his parents would be revived now that Bellatrix was death. But they weren't, they didn't. Of course.

The Cruciatus damaged forever.

"But it's fine. So, what have I missed?"

And Draco told him. Told him about Potters rescue mission, Theo's and Greg's wounds and how bad they were. He told him about helping Madam Pomfrey until he wasn't sure if he could keep his eyes open any longer and his feet hurt as if he had walked a thousand miles. He told him about all the blood. That he still could smell it, even hours after vanishing it and showering. Draco told him everything, squeezing his red-rimmed eyes shut. Everything, except for Potter's letter.

Draco wasn't sure why he remained silent, but without making a decision, he couldn't tell the other boy about the invitation.

"I'm sorry, Draco.", Neville whispered, and his voices sounded like he meant it.

Draco's eyes fluttered open, and he watched Neville thoughtful, "Don't be."

"But I am. No one deserves this."

"We did horrible things."

Neville sighed and rolled onto his back, entangled their feet, "I know. I was in the receiving end more times than I can count, Draco. Still, I don't think that anyone deserves something like this. You cannot justify bad actions with equally bad actions. This is simply not right. How can we say we are the good side when we act exactly the same as Voldemort and his Death Eaters?"

"I-", Draco shook his head, the still damp hair clutched on his cheek, "I don't know. Some people think we deserve this."

"There will always be people who won't let go, but this doesn't make them right or good.", Nevilles reached out to brush the hair out fo Draco's face and under his warm touch, goosebumps raised on the blond's skin.

"And you think different?!"

The hand didn't move away, and Neville let out a huffed, dry laugh, "I know that life isn't always black and white. That's all."

"That's all?!", Draco repeated quietly. He wasn't sure what he could say to this statement and remained silent. Instead, he watched Neville, who's finger stroke tenderly Draco's cheek and chin and neck.

"I'm sorry.", Draco whispered, almost shyly, "I'm sorry about everything I've ever done. I'm sorry I was such a ... a bad person."

"I know.", Neville whispered back and his eyes softened.

Then it happened.

Only for a second, and Draco nearly missed it. The brown eyes flickered to Draco's lips and then back up to his eyes. His heart began to rumble in his chest, and the breath became unsteady.

Had he seen right or was it just his imagination? When he licked nervously over his dry bottom lip, Neville's eyes flickered back to them and his pupils blown wide.

Fascinated Draco did it again and watched the small blush spreading over Neville's cheeks, like roses blooming in the warm spring sun. And this was with distance the most beautiful thing Draco had ever seen. The hand on Draco's cheek was slighting to his neck, almost instantly tightened, tugging. Without realising Neville had moved and was now hovering over Draco's body.

"Please say no.", Neville's voice came out harsh. His breath came out in erratic pants, and Draco could smell, feel, nearly taste it on his tongue.

"What?"

Neville's finger tangled with his hair and knew; knew that this had to happen.

"Say no."

And Draco, heart running, limbs shaking, whispered, "Yes."

When their lips connected, Dracos world shuttered under a violent blinding firework into million little pieces and he knew that it would always be _Yes_.

He was surprised over the rightness of their close proximity and how wonderful this felt.

"Yes", He murmured again, lips brushing over Neville's. Running his hands around the other's neck and drawing him closer, until their chest connected and Draco fancied he could feel Neville's heart. A soft, bittersweet ache ran down his spin and overwhelmed he whimpered. Desperately he pressed harder into Neville's.

Merlin, he had never thought, never hoped that the Gryffindor would want him back. All those days and nights, watching him, wanting so much that his skin crawled like thousand busy bees. He had wished, that for sure, once or twice dreamt of kissing, touching the other, but never, never hoped.

"Draco.", hearing his name from the other, with this desperately, raw voice, he just hung onto him harder.

Because with every touch of lips against lips, and tongue against tongue Draco was falling. Falling deeper and deeper.

 

  
The next day everything continued as it had before. Draco went out of bed at first to go to the shower and then woke Neville up. He waited until the other had finished his morning routine and they could go to the Great Hall for breakfast. There was no kiss, no additional touching, but the small, sweet smile Neville sent him, was everything Draco needed to know.

After breakfast, Draco went to the owlery. He had been awake half the night and thought about Neville's birthday and what he could get him.

Obviously, he couldn't go to Diagon Alley. He wasn't allowed to leave Hogwarts grounds. But Draco was sure that ordering something via owl would be a fuss. No one would serve an ex-Death Eater. And anyway he wasn't allowed to get money from their Gringott accounts until mid-August and then only for school supplies.

When Draco remembered a few Herbology books from Malfoy Manor, he thought about owling his mother, but even this was doomed to failure.

His mother was under house arrest in Malfoy Manor, and every single letter was controlled by the Ministry. Even if he were allowed to be in contact with her and his letter would be on time in Malfoy Manor, the books wouldn't be back until Nevilles birthday.

Maybe if he'd asked someone to get them from the Manor. Someone who had been on the right side of this fucking war and was allowed to visit his mother, and willing to help Draco.

Headmistress McGonagall was too busy, Draco knew that, so he never asked her. Luna, although he was sure she would want to help him, couldn't go back to the house she was tortured and captivated for weeks. He couldn't ask her to do that, it would be cruel. So this left only one other person, and although it almost hurt Draco physically, he attached the small parchment on the dark brown owl's feet and sent it with a low murmured, "Bring this to Potter, please."

 

After that, he went to the hospital wing. The familiar smell of Madam Pomfrey's favourite tea, summer air and healing salves hung in the air and welcomed him. Beyond that, he could hear almost happy chatter and occasionally light laughter. Draco's heart jumped with...what was it? Joy?

For a short moment, Madam Pomfrey laid a warm hand on his cheek and patted it like a puppy, but then there was a loud shatter.

"Good grief!", She exclaimed and said, "Then back to work, Mister Malfoy." before she walked away, bristling and shouting towards a boy.

When Draco turned, he could see them.

Greg and Theo sat in their beds, a small bowl of porridge in each of their lab and they were talking.

When he stepped closer both raised their heads and albeit Greg's face was still swollen and Theo was as white as the bedsheets, and his movements were stiff, they smiled. And Draco could see it, behind their pain and after everything. The laughter and smiles he had known for almost eighteen years. With a soft nod, he sat and the chair between their beds and his heart ached.

He could do that. He could start a new normality.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG there it is. The first kiss.  
> I hope it has met your expectations ;)
> 
> There will be a chapter about Neville's parents in the future and now it begins:  
> Draco's and Harry's roller coaster of a friendship...YES XD
> 
> Btw: Do you guys listen to the songs I (when I don't forget) add? Hope you like them all as much as I do. Most of them are on repeat while I'm writing the chapters and I think they influence the chapters a lot.


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